Songs and Dreams
by TC9078
Summary: The Seven Kingdoms of Westeros have been teetering for many years. While Jon Arryn's heir surviving the rebellion has assisted in stability for the Vale, it has caused a spiral of events that none could have predicted. Robert and Cersei having a trueborn child is only the tip of the iceberg. Rated T for now, will change eventually.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Before we begin, I just want to apologise. This story has been esoteric and lackluster and that is partially my own fault for not focusing on the story as I did other projects. As it is I have another main project going in the form of Familia est Aeternum. I wish I had done better by the people here, and I hope to make it up to them.**

 **Now, onto the basics if you want to understand this story. This is a pretty sharp AU. By that I mean several parts of canon (except the main plot itself, and even that has been shot a few times) have been taken out behind the shack and done away with. I am a bit of a world building freak, and this world, while beautifully done, is just very confusing and out of place in many instances. If something is different from canon, odds are I want it to be different.**

 **Finally, note that while this mostly follows book canon (hence being in the ASOIAF section and not the GoT section) I do start in 300 AC. Therefore, the various characters are 3 years older than they would be in the books. With that over with, let's begin.**

* * *

The wind whistled passed by the King's party as the rain continued to come down at a steady rate. It had been raining for nearly three days, and while it finally had begun to let up, it still turned the Kingsroad into a mess of mud and water. To the young man riding on his horse, this was certainly hell. The wheelhouse that the Queen had demanded come continued to bump along as the hooves of the horses splashed in the puddles. As a loud snap resounded through the air, Addam threw his eyes open.

Looking around, he sighed. as the rain eased his nerves. The back-right wheel of the wheelhouse had broken. Another one. "The Royal Family deserves to ride in comfort." The Queen had said. _Yeah, comfort my ass._ Wind blew the water into the faces of those who attempted to manage the wheelhouse as the Queen and the royals in the wheelhouse exited.

"Mother! Why do we have to stand out in the rain? Why can't we stay in the wheelhouse while the servants fix the wheel?" The eldest prince asked… well, more like whined. _Those 'servants' have more talent in craftsmanship than you do. Besides._

"Joff, the more you're out in the rain, the less it'll bother you later!" Addam said. If looks could kill, then Addam would have been dead at a hundred paces by the look Joffrey was giving him. Emerald met emerald as the two stared each other down. Sighing once more, Addam brushed his black hair out of his face and turned his horse away.

"Addam!" Joffrey yelled as Addam spurred his horse along the road, riding up towards the front of the retinue.

"Hey, if you all are stuck here anyway, I might as well see what's on ahead!" Addam shouted back as he continued on. He soon had eclipsed even the Vanguard of the retinue. What continued on was continual wide open fields and the well traveled mud that was the King's Road. After riding for a time, he came to a small grassy knoll and hopped off his horse, leading it over to the hill as he sat down in the soaking grass. _Why must I always be around these people. King Robert whores himself out to every woman that has any hint of beauty, except his own wife. He relied entirely on the advices of Lord Arryn… not that he's exactly around to advise anymore. The children…_ he blew his hair out of his face. _Joffrey cannot govern and will lead the realm to rebellion. Myrcella and Tommen would be the ideal children of nobility, being royalty seems to be a slap in the face for them. And… we'll see._

Addam closed his eyes for a time, time seeming to flow like a slow stream of water. However, a clap of thunder snapped him back to his senses. Looking around, it was almost pitch black around him, he could barely make out his horse in the darkness. He hopped up, walking over to his horse. He slung himself up into the saddle, and road on toward the road. The air seemed to flow past him, and the water just run off of him. _Damn, why did I have to get distracted?!_

The rain started to come down harder. The winds became stronger, obstructing his vision to the point he could barely see even the head of his horse. A strike of lightning lit up the area around Addam like a jar of wildfire did to a piece of dry wood. On the flip side, it did provide Addam with enough visibility to spot the road, and continue riding along it. "Okay..." Addam mutters to himself. "Calm down, Addam, it's not like you're lost in the middle of Volantis or something like that."

Addam continued riding along the road, the rain continuing to pour down. Finally, Addam thought he could see some light in the distance. He pushed his horse as hard as it could go, before finally reaching the light. It was indeed the King's retinue. _Retinue of bootlickers and shit-eaters._ He walked over to where he usually slept near the supply wagon, and fell asleep near it.

When Addam awoke the next morning, there was a boy standing over him, looking bored at him. His sloppy brown hair flowed into his green-brown eyes as he looked down at him. Addam stretched before sighing.

"You know, it would be a lot more comfortable for a beautiful woman to wake me." Addam remarked. He sat up, twisting his body, before standing up.

"Addam, glad you're awake." the boy said.

"Hope I didn't worry anyone yesterday." Addam said, with seemingly no regard that the boy had said anything. Addam tilts his head at the boy, looking at him for an answer. The boy crossed his arms, with an indignant look on his face.

"Not really. Once we saw you sleeping next to the supply cart, any worries that may have existed vanished." the boy replied.

"I'm sure if any worries existed, they were but figments of imagination." Addam said with a smile. You'd all celebrate if I met an unfortunate death.

"Well, the King wished to see you when awoke." the boy informed him. _Hmm… if he wanted some girls he'd not have sent for me when I awoke..._

"Tell the King I'll be to see him soon." Addam said.

"Yes, milord." the boy said, running off.

"My lord." Addam grumbled under his breath.

"You asked for me, your grace?" Addam said with a simple bow. King Robert was a tall man, with thick arm muscles, though with a huge gut that seemed to not fit the rest of his body, though not as large as it had been a year previously. His hair was as black as the night, and his eyes as blue as the azure sky. He had a glass of wine in his hand as he sat on a stool.

"Aye. You vanished yesterday. Rode off on your horse and didn't show up again until late in the night."

"If your grace was worried about me running away, you needn't worry." Addam replied. _Like hell I'll ever admit that I lost track of time._

"Aye. It would be a bad mark on my rule for a 'hostage'" Robert said, "to randomly disappear during my travels north." Addam smirked. _Well, it's not the only bad mark you have, and not nearly worst, so it matters not._

"So, your grace, have you deigned to explain why you wanted to see me." Addam said.

"Wha… oh, yes. When we arrive at Winterfell, I want you to go and find Young Ned, since I doubt he'll be there to greet us." Robert said.

Addam's eyebrows raise slightly. "And how exactly am I to know the damned layout of that ancient castle? That's damn well not even the reason I agreed to accompany you people." He sighed.

"You're the only who could figure out where he goes. You always dragged him back home in King's Landing." Robert replied.

"Well… I did have plans when we arrived at Winterfell, so any distractions should very well be compensated." Addam replied.

"If you wish to see your cousin, I will not prevent it, I doubt Young Ned will be far from him anyway." Robert said. _Well, that's a relief, you wouldn't have been able to stop me anyway._

"So... basically, I find Edric, you don't hinder any efforts for me to see Theon again." Addam asked.

"Yes, that is what I said, isn't it, Greyjoy?" Robert confirmed. Addam gave a light smirk.

"Well, if that's all, I shall say _ffarwel_ and depart, _Dy Ras._ "[farewell & Your Grace] Addam said as he turned around and left the tent. As he walked out of the tent, he saw a purse. Quickly rummaging through it, he took a small bag of clinking coins out of it and slipped it into his sleeves. _Royal Family won't miss a few Stags now will they, hehehe._ Walking over to the barrel of wine outside the tent, he swiped the cup that the blonde Lannister boy was filling with wine, and chugged it all down, much to his consternation. Walking toward back the camp, Addam Greyjoy smiled. This was going to be fun.

* * *

 **Reviews are appreciated.**


	2. Catelyn I

**A/N: Apologies for the short chapter again, I just couldn't find anything else to put in this chapter. First time I write using a canon character. I tried my hardest to capture Catelyn's personality and thoughts, I hope I did a good job. Follow, Favourite, and Review! EDIT: Apparently there is already a character in canon named Cerenna Lannister. The one I am speaking in this chapter of is the name I gave to one of the 2 unnamed daughters of Jason Lannister.**

* * *

Blue eyes scanned the stone terraces of Winterfell as the cold northern wind brushed the auburn hair out of Catelyn Stark's face. Outriders had reported that it was more than likely the king would arrive at the castle within the day. Catelyn had, therefore, decided to ensure that everyone would be ready by the time the King arrived. The stables had been emptied, room was made for the queen's wheelhouse, the guest rooms had been prepared, and a grand feast was prepared for that night, and every night during the Royal Family's planned two week stay at Winterfell. Everything had to be just right, and any mistakes quickly corrected.

Of course, any corrections mattered not now, as the royal party was pouring through the gates, with the golden banners of House Baratheon whipping through the wind high above them, crowned stags prancing in the wind. Many of the riders near the front were well known, Ser Jaime Lannister, the Queen's twin brother, Sandor Clegane, the Sworn Sword of the Crown Prince, riding next to the curly-but short trimmed golden haired boy who had to be the Crown Prince, looking with a kindly smile towards them. _This one seems to understand etiquette, unlike his brother._

After they spread out, the main section of the column came riding in. At the head of the column rode a giant of a man on the back of a black warhorse. The man had arms ripped with muscles, but his stomach extended far beyond what one would expect. He had coal black hair, and his eyes seemed the same colour as the azure sky. After riding over to the side, he practically leapt off his horse, walked up to Ned a crushed him into a bear-hug with a cry of "Ned!"

Ned seemed to return the hug to King Robert, and Catelyn averted her gaze to look at the column. The large wheelhouse had opened, and the Queen Cersei Lannister stepped out with her younger children, the Princess Myrcella and the Prince Tommen. The Princess looked very uncomfortable, always tugging at her dress incessantly. The Prince was staring wide eyed, looking around with those little emeralds of his. The Queen looked very disinterested, like she didn't want to be there. _She married the king, so her name really should be Queen Cersei Baratheon, not Lannister, but she never seems to have changed her name, she is still always referred to as Queen Cersei Lannister. A wife is supposed to accept her husband's name as her own. I accepted become Catelyn Stark._ Catelyn thought as her eyes ran across the party.

Next to the Queen there stood a young man, with little muscle to speak of on his body, yet he didn't appear unhealthy either. His black hair extended to his neck, and his bangs were tucked behind his left ear. His emerald eyes had a distinctly bored expression on his face… almost as if he was expecting something that wasn't there, and was trying to... not look disappointed. _Seven hells. Not again, not another one._

Before long, the young man noticed her looking in his direction. He put his right hand to his left breast, gave a kindly bow with a bit of a mocking smile on his face, before extending his right arm in a wide arc and returning it to his side as if remembering something.

"Well, while _ei ras_ [his grace] rekindles his love affair over there, I have a task to do."the young man said, walking over to the line of people as the Queen glared at him from behind. He walked over toward Catelyn and the children and looked over the line. Following him were the younger children. The King walked up to Catelyn, and they embraced like long lost siblings, while Ned knelt down to kiss the Queen's ring. The Queen walked up to her next, and Catelyn provided a respectful curtsey.

"Take me down to your crypts, Eddard, I wish to pay my respects." Robert said.

"We've been on the road for two months, surely the dead can wait." Cersei protested. Robert barely spared her a glance before motioning for Ned to follow, and he did. The Queen may have protested more, but Jaime touched her arm, and after she turned her head at him, he shook his head lightly, and she stopped any protesting. The young man seemed to finish looking over the line in which they were standing about then, and turned to look at her.

"Where's Little Ned?" he asked.

"Who?" Catelyn asked.

"Little Ned." he stated once again. _How rude_ , _he didn't introduce himself!_ Suddenly, a cry of "Oh!" came up from behind her. Turning around, she saw that Arya had stepped forward. She looked a bit nervous stepping, but soon seemed to compose herself an look directly at him.

"He's probably in the Glass Gardens." Arya said.

"Well, can you lead me to him?" the young man asked her with abit of an attitude.

"Wait until after the introductions." Catelyn said sternly. The young man turned to look at her, and gave her a wide smile that seemed to imply bad intentions.

"Lady… Stark, was it? I can't do as I wish until I find the kid, so I would _appreciate_ it if you moved out of my way. I really couldn't care less about the pleasantries. So, shall you show me to the young prince, Little Stark?" he said.

"My name is Arya," she replied. "and mayhaps I'll show you to him after you introduce yourself."

"Addam." he said. His black doublet with golden stitches seemed to explain the rest to her, and she waved him along.

"Arya!" Catelyn called. "Get back here! You cannot leave during the middle of the introduction!"

Arya spun around. "Arya Stark, pleasure to meet your acquaintance." she said with a respectable curtsey before continuing onwards, Addam following behind.

The Queen then walked forward to introduce the children to each other. The Princess seemed to be passing glances at Robb as she walked, and Tommen eyes still seemed resplendent staring at the sight of Winterfell and the snow around them. Catelyn turned to look at the ones in the line, and Theon Greyjoy looked as pale as the snow he was standing in.

"Greyjoy, something troubling you?" Catelyn asked.

"That young man, Addam? That was my cousin." Theon said.

"Your… cousin?" Catelyn asked, incredulous,

He nodded. "He's Addam Greyjoy. His father is my uncle Victarion. Addam's mother was his second wife, a match my grandfather Quellon made to try and make connections on the mainland. Her name was Cerenna… Lannister" Theon explained.

"Cerenna… Lady Joanna's little sister?" Catelyn asked.

"Yes… I believe so." he said.

"I thought the Ironborn hated anything having to do with the mainland?" Catelyn asked.

Theon scoffed. "Nah, that's just some _edau_ my father spins. While under him that may have increased, we have enough traders under our banners that we have to have some ties or we'd all starve to death." After Theon finished explaining this to her, Cersei and her children walked up to the line. The Crown Prince descended from his horse and walked up to them as well, Each one introducing themselves, the Princes introducing themselves first.

"Prince Joffrey, of Houses Baratheon and Lannister"

"Prince Tommen, of Houses Baratheon and Lannister."

"Princess Myrcella, of House Baratheon." The Princess got a side-eyed look from her mother and siblings, but no further mention was made of it. The Stark children then moved up, along with Theon, the Snow boy stayed behind.

"Robb, of House Stark"

"Sansa, of House Stark"

"Brandon, of House Stark."

"Rickon, of House Stark."

"Theon, of House Greyjoy."

The Princess' eyes widened. "Are you related to Addam?"

"Yes. My father is his father's elder brother." Theon answered.

"Ned told us Addam had a cousin up here, we wanted to meet his acquaintance." Tommen said in his best 'prince' voice. _Ned… his siblings think so highly of him by the sound of their voices._

"Why isn't Ned out here?" Myrcella asked, a slightly indignant edge to her voice.

"Prince Edric can be too willful for his own good, tends to stay to himself." Catelyn said with as little edge as she could muster.

"He vowed he would see us again when he could!" Tommen all but screamed. However, he was tapped on the shoulder by his sister.

"Tom, let's _gae_."[go] Myrcella whispered to her brother, and they turned and walked away from the courtyard. Slowly, everyone began to leave the courtyard. Once Ser Rodrik had left to escort the Queen to the guest houses, Catelyn finally left the courtyard herself.


	3. Eddard I

**A/N: Much of the dialogue in this chapter is lifted directly from Eddard's canon chapter in A Game of Thrones. Also, on the world: both Elbert and Denys Arryn are still alive. Elbert injured his ankle and was therefore unable to join Brandon's wanton expedition to King's Landing. He healed eventually and was the one who married Lysa during the rebellion. Denys is about the same age as Elbert, and his wife is still alive as well due to him not meeting his unfortunate end. With that out of the way, let's start the chapter.**

* * *

Eddard held the lanturn up as he led Robert through the crypts of Winterfell. All around him were the statues of previous Starks come before him. He looked around at the watchful eyes of his grandfather, Edwyle and his great-granduncle Artos. Finally, he reached the statue of his father, Rickard, with his brother Brandon on one side, and his sister Lyanna on the other. Calling "here, Your Grace," when they reached the statue. Robert gave a sad, melacholy smile as he walked over to the statue. The king knelt before her statue, silent and solemn.

"I feel like she was more beautiful than this." Robert said, staring at her face as if he could will her back to life with his thoughts. He stared silently at her statue for a time, before rising up, made somewhat awkward due to his weight. "Damn it Ned, why did you have to bury her in a place like this?" his was voice hoarse with grief, "She deserved more than darkness."

"She was a Stark, Your Grace. This is her place." Ned said quietly.

"She should be alive, ruling by my side. Even if not, she should be on a hill somewhere, with beauty around her and the rain to wash her clean." Robert said.

"I was there when she died. She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father." Ned said. _Promise me_ she had said. _Promise me, Ned._ That fever which had ended her life, the room stinking of blood and roses. "I bring her flowers when I can."

"She did love flowers..." Robert said.

"We should be leaving soon, Your Grace. Your wife is waiting for us." Eddard said.

"The Others take my wife." Robert muttered sourly. "And if I hear one more 'Your Grace' outta your mouth I'll have your head on a pike, we're more to each other than that."

"I had not forgotten." Ned replied quietly. The King said nothing at that, so he said, "Tell me about Jon."

Robert looked down and shook his head. "I have never seen a man sicken so quickly. We gave a tourney on my son Joffrey's name day. If you'd have looked at Jon then, you could have sworn he would live forever. A fortnight passed and he was dead. The sickness was like a fire; it burned right through him." he stopped in front of the pillar of a long dead King Brandon Stark, which Brandon Stark it was no one could tell. "I loved that man."

"We both did." Ned paused. "How are Elbert and Lysa? Catelyn fears for how they are."

Robert frowned slightly. "Not entirely well. Elbert and Lysa were in King's Landing when Jon died. They were beside themselves with grief, and left early the next morning without so much as a by-your-leave. They went back to the Eyrie with the little ones. Against my wishes. I had hoped to have the 2nd boy fostered with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock. The eldest fostered at Runestone, and Jon had no other place to send him, I wouldn't wish for him to be raised up in that castle by nothing other than a woman, since Elbert will have to be gone much of the time due to being a Lord now."

Eddard would sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Lord Tywin, but he took care not to reopen _that_ wound again. "They lost the man who was like a father to them, mayhaps they feared for their children as well. Besides, the boy is young, is he not?"

"He's a boy of eight, rather strange, but he is a pleasant boy to be around." Robert crossed his arms. "Lord Tywin had never taken a ward, they ought to have been honored. The Lannisters are a Great House same as the Arryns. They refused to hear of it. Elbert told me Jon had been making plans for the boy to foster but they seem to have fallen through with his death. They left that night before without any warning. Cersei was raving the whole day after." Robert sighed, frowning. "Elbert is like a brother to me, to us. We grew up in the Eyrie together. His son... he's rarely left the Eyrie. The boy is the namesake of his great-grandfather. Jasper, his name is. His elder brother is my namesake, I swore to him I would help protect him. How can I do that if he is in the Eyrie?"

"I could take him as a ward, if you wish." Ned said. "Lysa would likely be happy to allow it. She and Catelyn were inseperable as girls, she would be welcome here at any time as well."

"It's a generous offer, my friend," the king said, "but it's too late. Lord Tywin already gave his consent. Fostering him elsewhere would be a grave insult to him."

"I care more abut my nephew's well being than Lannister pride. Besides, you don't even have to make the arrangement. Elbert is his father, he has the full right to foster the boy with whomever he wishes, not who the King asks him too."

"You care not for Lannister pride, but you also don't share a bed with one." Robert laughed, the sound echoed off the ancient tunnels. He smiled through the black mane that covered his lower face. "You're still too serious Ned, I hope that Young Ned hasn't taken inspiration from you."

"He rarely speaks with any of us, I doubt he's picked up anything from me." Ned replied.

"Ah, it was but a jape. You are still too serious, Ned. I had planned to wait a few days to talk with you... I see there is no need for that now. Walk with me." The two of them walked deeper into the crypts, with the long hard faces of the Starks watching them as they walked. Footsteps rattled off the stone as they descended deeper and deeper into the darkness. Robert threw his arm around Ned's shoulders. "You must wonder why I came to the North after so long."

Ned had some suspicions, but refrained from voicing them in favour of what Robert was likely expecting. "My company surely must not be enough, Your Grace, after all, no royal has visited Winterfell since your Great-Grandsire did when he was a Prince. You must be here for your boy as well." he said with a light tone. Robert chuckled, but Ned continued. "Also, the Wall, you must see it Your Grace, and walk the battlements and talk to the men who man it. The Night's Watch is a shadow of what it once was, Benjen tells me-"

Robert interrupted him. "I'll hear what you're brother has to say soon enough, no doubt." He looked about him. "These are troubling times. I did come for my boy, but he's not the big reason I'm here. I would have come here even had he not been here. I need good men around me, men like Jon. He served me as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, and as Hand of the King, he will not be easy to replace."

"Your Grace, Elbert has trained his entire life to become the Warden of the East. He is more than ready-" Ned began.

"Seven Hells, I know that! Elbert will ascend to the Eyrie and become the Warden of the East. I would not deprive him of that which Jon trained him his entire life for, he was effectively acting Warden when Jon was in King's Landing with me." Robert softened his tone. "Enough of that talk now, there is a much more important office to discuss, and it would not be to argue with you over such trivial matters." Robert placed his hand on Eddard's shoulders. "I have need of you, Ned."

"Your Grace, I am yours to command as you see fit." Words he had to say, so he said them, despite his apprehention at what would come next.

Robert didn't even seem to hear him. "Those days we spent in the Eyrie, those were the days. The two of us, with Elbert, and later when Denys joined us... _those_ were the good years. But even then, it was often the two of us. I want you at my side again, Ned. I want you with me in King's Landing, not up here at the edge of the world, of no use to anybody." Robert stared off into the darkness, the melancholy on his face could have almost made one think he was a Stark. "Sitting on a throne is nothing like winning one. Laws are tedious to memorise and enforce, counting coppers is even worse. And the people... there is no end for them. I sit on that damn uncomfortable chair and listen to them complain until my mind numbs and my ass rubs raw. They all want something: money, land, _justice_." Robert spat that last word out. "The lies they tell to get their way... and the lords and ladies of the court are no better! I am surrounded by flatterers, fools, and one damn boy who's ego matches my height, he's too smart who his own good, the bad part is he _realises_ it."

"Which one is that?" Ned asked.

"Addam Greyjoy. His father handed him over to us on order from Balon, he hoped that giving him to us would convince me to give his son back to him. He's obviously more full of himself then we thought, to think I would do that. He just gave us an extra." Robert let out a full laugh. "But honestly, the extra's more trouble than he's worth. Cersei raves about what offenses he has committed most times we speak." Robert explained.

"What offenses does he commit?" Ned inquired.

"Mostly just questioning her authority, and being uncouth in the presence of the court. She may not like him, but she seemingly tolerates him if only for the fact that his mother was a Lannister, and he has the eyes to prove it. I swear Ned, I am surrounded by Emerald eyes everywhere I go in court! I need some moonstone to assist the sapphire." Robert turned to face Ned fully now. "Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King."

Ned knelt before Robert immediately. The offer did not surprise him. There was almost no other reason Robert would have come North personally, not even to retrieve his son. The Hand of the King was the second most powerful job in the realm. He spoke with the King's voice, commanded the King's armies, drafted the King's laws, and sometimes even sat on the Iron Throne to dispense justice the the King's name. The only possible restriction on the office was that one could not be both the King's Regent and the Hand of the King at the same time. Robert was asking him to take up the second most powerful job in the land, and all the responsibility that came with it. The last thing that Ned wanted.

"Your Grace." he began, "I am not worth of this honour."

"If I wanted to honour you, I'd let you retire." Robert said with a hint of good natured impatience. "I plan to make you run the Kingdoms for me while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave." He slapped his gut and grinned. "You know what they say about the King and the Hand?"

Indeed he did. "What the King dreams, the Hand builds."

Robert nodded. "Aye, though I once bedded a fishwife that told me the commonfolk have a saying of their own: The King eats and the Hand takes the shit." he smiled. "Addam told Edric another version of it: The King shits and the Hand wipes." He threw his head back and laughed a roaring laugh, one that echoed across the halls that made up the Winterfell crypts. The statues of Starks past stared with seeming disapproving eyes. Looking behind Robert, Ned saw the statue of Brandon 'Ice Eyes' watching the two of them, as if waiting for them to make a move.

"Your Gra... Robert" Ned began. "If I go south, what will become of Edric? "

Robert looked carefully at Ned. "What of him?"

Ned faultered for a moment, before stating his concern. "My Lady Wife does not approve of the boy, she wants him sent somewhere else. If I go south, he would likely have to come as well."

Robert frowned, before sighing. "It cannot be helped. I wanted to keep him away from King's Landing for a time, after a bunch of Goldcloaks wound up slaughtered in an incident in Flea Bottom, I knew he needed to be as far away from here as I could make him. I remembered how we grew up in the Eyrie, and hoped that he could become friendly with your children as well."

Ned frowned as well. "If that was your plan, it has failed. Robb doesn't like him very much, Sansa doesn't like him at all, Bran finds him boring, and Rickon just doesn't seem to care about him. The only ones he's befriended are Jon Snow and my daughter Arya."

Robert frowned even deeper, and then tapped Eddard's shoulders. "Ned, get up and at least humor me with a smile at least once."

"They say it is so cold in the North during winter it causes laughter to freeze and choke men's throats." Ned said. "Maybe that is why we have little humor."

"Come south with me, I'll teach you how to smile. Hells, bring Edric back south too, I haven't seen him laugh and smile in over a year." Robert frowned a bit. "You and I, we were meant to rule this land, we won it together. Had Lyanna lived, we'd've been brothers by blood as well as bond. It's not too late, I have a son, you have a daughter, my Joffrey and your Sansa shall join our houses as Lyanna and I might have once done."

Ned blinked a bit at that. "Sansa is but three and ten."

"Your wife was but twelve name days when she was betrothed to your brother Brandon, the marriage can wait until she flowers." Robert frowned. "I am correct in assuming-"

"You are correct, she is yet unflowered." Ned said quickly.

"Well, then say yes, damn you!" Robert said.

Ned said. "Your grace... these honours are beyond what I have expected and are so sudden, may I have time to consider? I shall also need to seek my lady wife's counsel on the matter..."

"Yes, yes, of course tell Cat, and sleep on it if you must, but don't keep me waiting too long, I am not the most patient of men." Robert smiled, then began to walk back the way they had come. Ned began to look around at the faces of his ancestors all looking at him. "Oh, Ned!" Robert called back. Ned turned to face him. "Make sure to tell Edric: he _wil_ _l_ be returning home when we leave."


	4. Sansa I

**A/N: A second chapter in two days! I know, I'm on a role. Also, to my co-author (I know you are reading this, PJ): Sorry for not giving your character more screen time, I just have to introduce everything before getting the plot going! Anyway, everyone, enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

Sansa listened to her best friend Jeyne chatter about the Prince Joffrey as she finished her needlework. Septa Mordane soon came over and started praising her needlework again. The King had been in Winterfell since the morning and there was to be a massive feast that night. As the Septa continued to espouse her approval Sansa's needlework, she saw Arya sitting there frowning, still unable to guide the needle in a manner exquisite enough to make beautiful embroidery. Looking next to Arya, Sansa saw the Princess Myrcella struggling much the same, but her's at least had the right idea, Arya's were just all off, her right hand was jittering everywhere as she tried to move the needle, it was almost painful to watch her try.

However, that soon ended as the Princess stood up. "Septa, I would humbly like to request that lessons end early on this day so we may prepare ourselves for the feast tonight." she said with a hint of authority.

"Of course, my princess," the septa said carefully, before looking around at all the girls, "you are all dismissed for-"

"-it's just Robert's excuse to gorge himself on food, get drunk, and lay with any willing girl he can find." a young man said walking into the room with his head facing the other way.

"Um... Addam..." a voice said from out the door.

"What is..." he turned around and looked around at the room filled with girls and their embroidery.

"Well, see ya." the voice outside said as footsteps quickly hit the ground and got fainter quickly. The young man looked around at them. Sansa remembered him, Addam, he'd introduced himself to Arya when the King had arrived, and run off looking for Prince Edric. He had pitch black hair, was clean shaven and his hair was cut to his neck, his bangs were tucked behind his left ear, giving a great view of his emerald green eyes.

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry, was I interrupting something?" Addam asked. The Princess rolled her eyes at that comment.

"No, we're finished here, Addam. We were just preparing to leave." The Princess said.

"Oh, that's unfortunate, I was looking forward to see what Northern women did as compared to the _addfwyn_ Southron flowers." Addam replied.

"What does that-" Jeyne began.

"It means _gentle_." Addam interrupted. He smiled at all the girls, and looked around the room.

"Why are you speaking another tongue in the presence of others? We are supposed to use the Vale's tongue, or barring that High Valyrian, to communicate with each other." Sansa asked.

The young man put his arms behind his head. "Do you even speak your own tongue, or do you just speak the Vale's?"

"Of course I speak a tongue other than the Valeman tongue, but-"

"Then speak it, I studied the Northern tongue with Edric before he came here, it's not dissimilar from my own tongue." Addam said. "Of course, the mark of a true lady is speaking both the language of her home and of her husband."

" _'S urrainn dhomh bruidhinn cànan eile!_ "[I can speak another language] Sansa all but shouted.

Addam clapped. "And there we have it. Honestly, I'm disappointed. That was the dialect that is spoken in the Southwestern Riverlands and the Northern Westerlands. That and I thought you'd be out in the training yard."

"It is highly improper for highborn ladies to be out in the training yard." the Septa said.

Addam got a wicked smile on his face as he turned to face the Septa. "It is also highly improper for the Septa to interrupt the highborn when he is speaking. But you broke that, so it's great!" he then turned to face Arya. "Little Stark!"

"I asked you stop calling me that!" Arya said with a look of Indignation.

"Question: how did the Martell's conquer Dorne?" Addam asked, completely ignoring her.

"The Princess Nymeria led the 45,000 Rhoynar who had survived the voyage from Sothoryos. She landed at the mouth of the greenwater and married the King of Sunspear, Mors Martell, and the two of them conquered all the land in Westeros south of the Red Mountains. Mors died in the campaign against the Daynes, but as their children were all underage, she took direct rulership of Dorne, and finished conquering the Starry Kingdom." Arya answered enthusiastically.

"You need to work on your brevity." he said to Arya, before turning back to Sansa. Looking around, she saw that all the ladies barring the Starks, the Septa, and the Princess had left. "You see anything there? Women can lead armies and fight in wars just as well as men. Hells, my cousin Asha is the captain of her own ship."

"She's Ironborn, they have so few people on those desolate islands that they have no choice but to have their women fight." the Septa replied. _Asha Greyjoy is his cousin? His clothing is coloured gold and black... gold **on** black. That must be House Greyjoy's colours!_

Addam's eye twitched at that, but said. "Aegon the Conqueror's two sisters?"

"They were Valyrian Dragonriders, they are judged differently." the Septa replied.

"Fine." Addam spat. "If it were up to you, how would _you_ have these girls brought up? Who is a perfect role model for them?"

"The mother and the maiden, as described in the Mother's Me-" the septa began.

"Oh shut up!" Addam whined. "I don't follow the Seven! I can at least tolerate those Old Gods of you people." he waved his hand at Arya as he said that. "The Seven can go burn in their respective hells." he shakes his head. "I'm getting nowhere with you! I thought I heard something about Joffrey earlier, and came over this way, but my _associate_ left me here."

"How dare you speak of the Seven-Who-Are-One in that-" the septa began. Addam looked like he was about to interrupt but then, the Princess stood up.

"Septa Mordane," she said in as authoritative a voice as she could muster, "I, Princess Myrcella of the House Baratheon, command you to leave at once. Let us discuss matters without your company."

The Septa bristled at that, and looked more angry than Sansa had ever seen her before, but she gave a the Princess a long look. "Very well, my Princess." she spat out that last word before turning and walking out of the room with all the dignity she could muster.

"Well, she took that rather well. Addam, please continue." the Princess said.

"So, I came here because I was looking for Theon, I heard he might be with some girls and I thought this may be where he was, but it seems I chose the wrong room. Anyway, I heard something about Joff." Addam said.

Sansa looked right at him. His personality seemed everywhere, he was nice and then he turned into a worse version of the 2nd Prince when he had spoken with her lady mother after that incident then being nice again. Sansa rubbed her cheek at the memory of what he had done. But she wouldn't let him do to the gorgeous Prince what he did to the Seven.

"Prince Joffrey, yes, Jeyne was telling me that I may be betrothed to him!" Sansa felt her heart almost flutter at the though.

Addam frowned. "I'm... so sorry. But I'm afraid you'll have to live with a husband who has not more than a dagger to sheathe."

"If Prince Joffrey chooses to not carry a dagger why is it my concern." Sansa replied.

"No, I'm saying he has no cock." he said without even changing the look on his face. Sansa felt her cheeks heat up at that as she unconsciously shot backward. Addam had said that so easily, in front of three ladies, without even thinking. Then, without warning the Princess started laughing. Even Arya had a smile on her face. _How could they think that is funny?!_

"I don't see what's so funny, Myrcella, it's the truth of the matter." Addam said, turning to look at her. "Besides, even your mother has more charisma than Joffrey, and that's not saying much." The Princess continued to laugh uncontrollably, to the point she would have fallen had Arya not grabbed and held her steady.

Addam turned back to Sansa. "You think Joffrey's so great because he's your _gallant_ Prince? Maegor the Cruel was a Prince, Aegon the Unworthy was a Prince, Aerys the Mad was a Prince." he leaned in closer to Sansa, "Baelor the Repressed was a Prince. And you should remember the last Prince who ran away with a Stark maiden." he backed up.

"Life's not the songs, Sansa Stark, it's worse. Much, much worse." he said in a dark tone with a serious look on his face. She looked at him for a second, before he turned around to the others. He walked over to Myrcella and Arya, and picked up the embroidery Arya was working on. "Wow, Little Ned told me you hated embroidery but I didn't know you purposefully messed up on it. You're left handed from what I saw, yet you obviously used your right hand on this."

Arya bristled at that. "I don't do it by choice! Septa Mordane forces me to use my right hand, says that it is 'impious' to use your left hand as your primary hand."

Addam took a step back. "Oh... I didn't realise." he took a deep breath. "It's obvious you sacrifice much to be a lady, that makes you a true one to me." Addam then bowed respectfully to her. Arya just stared at him, dumbfounded. "Come now, Myrcella, I want you to meet my cousin!" he said to the Princess.

The Princess seemed to think on it for a few moments, before making up her mind. "Fine," she sighed, "but if he tries to-"

"Don't worry, I'll make sure he never has children if that's the case." Addam said as he and Myrcella began to leave. "My knee can be very persuasive." he finished with as he walked away with the Princess.

* * *

 **A/N: That thing that Sansa yelled was "I speak another language." Just to avoid the questions.**


	5. Edwyle I

**A/N: Alright! I finished the chapter! If you notice any errors, please tell me, I try to go through and find all of them but sometimes I do miss a few, and I always appreciate it. Let's begin!**

* * *

Grey eyes shot open as Edwyle suddenly realised he had slept far too late again. He sat up from his bed in the Great Keep, pulled back the curtains and tossed open the shutters of the one window his room had. Many men with Lion and Stag banners were shuffling around and running under the bridge to the armory. He stretched before donning some britches, a tunic, and threw a grey doublet with a white trim on top of the tunic.

Once he put his clothes, Edwyle took his foot wrappings off of where he had hung them, and put them on each foot, before putting on his boots and leaving his room. He walked out of his room and walked down toward the main hall. He took off at a run, no one was ever going by this area anyway. His footsteps echoed off the ground as he ran down the stairs and went down level by level. He needed to find his Lord Uncle. Also, he wished to find out why no one had come to wake him up.

Running down, he encountered a Stark guardsman standing a watch near a corner. The guard gave his respects before giving him some specific instructions. "If you see a young man with black hair and green eyes, inform him that your uncle has requested his presence in his solar." Of course, Edwyle knew that meant that he was summoning the man.

Sometimes Edwyle was glad he would be unlikely to rule anything. His uncle might give him some land in the North somewhere, the Old Gods only knew how many holdfasts were abandoned after the Great Spring Sickness, but Edwyle had no real desire to rule anything. His father had once told him that ruling his own holdfast would leave him unable to take up control of Winterfell should anything happen to the main line, and that it was the duty of the younger cadets of House Stark to stay and help the main line.

Edwyle slowed at the memory. His father had gone to the Night's Watch, a 'lay brother' as they had called him, only being taken on for a short length of time, about 5 years. His father was the first of them, and had joined after his mother had died birthing his sister, Lyarra. That had been 3 years previous. His sister asked him where their father was often, she was too young to understand why they had no parents.

He never could bring himself to tell her the truth. He always said that their father was on an adventure, that he'd be home soon. He hadn't seen his father since the day he left, his blue grey eyes tearing up as he promised he would come home one day. Edwyle's eyes teared up remembering that day, he quickly wiped his eyes to avoid crying. As he swung around a corner he crashed into a wad of blonde, tumbling to the ground.

Edwyle managed to sit up. "Aiou, ma fenn."he muttered, rubbing his head. He blinked and saw he had crashed into a blonde girl in a loose yellow dress with black stitching. The girl gave him a sharp glare.

"Watch where ye're gang." she said.

"What?" Edwyle asked, confused. The girl shook her head for a second, then said slowly.

"Watch. Where. You. Are. Going." she then stood up. "I'll let you off this time, but if you do it again you may find trouble." she said brushing off as she walked away.

Edwyle sat on the ground for about a minute, thinking about what that girl had said, before standing and continuing his trek about the castle. As it was late afternoon, he thought to go pray in the godswood, before deciding against it. He didn't exactly want to bump into the Prince while there, the cold glare his eyes would give, mesmerising but terrifying in the way that they didn't match.

He had tried to make friends with the boy, as he was only a few months younger than him. However little had happened in way of that. Few that he could call friends were within reach of him. Once he reached four and ten namedays he could ask his uncle to foster him at Ironoaks. He could see his relatives there, his cousin Anya, his cousin Harry, mayhaps he could get his aunt to consent Aloysius coming down from that little keep that he was heir to. His other cousins were all over the south, many of which he had never gotten a chance to meet.

He remembered meeting many of them at the funeral of his grandfather, Ser Elys Waynwood. His aunts Irya, Meredyth, Tarysa, and Cathryn, his cousins Aloysius, Harry, Jon the Younger, as well as Anya's grandchildren, mainly Roland, who was a squire then, who taught him foot wrapping. It would let him wear his boots without blistering, his feet and boots wouldn't smell as bad, and it would be more comfortable once he was used to it.

According to Roland, Septons, Septas, and some Maesters did it as a symbol of purity, so as to make it seem that the Seven blessed them with cleaner feet, where in reality they just used a form of foot wrapping. It was always hearing about these things that made Edwyle ask why his uncle had allowed a Sept to be built in Winterfell. The Septa had come from the Riverlands, and seemed to use foot wrappings. Maester Luwin didn't use foot wrappings, Edwyle knew that. It didn't seem the Septon didn't either, being a native of White Harbour.

Deep in thought, Edwyle almost walked right into another person. However, he noticed this time and stepped aside. He watched the young man walk by before remembering something. "Demat!" Edwyle called. The young man turned around.

"Finally." the young man said. "Someone who actually speaks the Northern language in the North."

Edwyle looked at him. "Lord Stark has requested to speak with you in his solar." he said.

The young man gave a curious look. "Well, unfortunately, I have business to attend to, maybe later we can-"

"My apologies." Edwyle interrupted. "I should have said Lord Stark summons you. Bremañ."

The young man stood up straight, and stared at Edwyle for what seemed like forever. Then he laughed. It was a hearty laugh, one that a person released when they realise something in good humour.

"Well then, lead on, young one." the man said. Edwyle turned around and began walking toward his Uncle's solar. He made sure to keep watch behind him, to make sure he didn't try to run off. Soon enough, they had reached the Lord's' Solar. Edwyle tapped three times on the door.

"Who is it?" his uncle's voice called from inside.

"Uncle. I've brought the one you summoned." Edwyle replied. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal his uncle, dressed in his grey and white doublet, complimenting his smokey grey eyes.

"I give you my thanks for bringing him. If you would like to accompany us into the room, you would be most welcome, nephew." his uncle said. Edwyle knew how his uncle had his way with words when it came to courtesy. It was polite to put it in that way, but Edwyle knew it was expected of him to enter as well. He had mistaken it for just a simple offer when he was younger, and was swiftly corrected in this the next time he heard it.

"Yes, Lord Uncle. I thank you for the offer." Edwyle responded in turn. He entered the room after the young man and his uncle shut the door behind them. His uncle sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table from the young man, whereas Edwyle sat at the end of the table.

"So, you are Addam Greyjoy, Robert's ward." his uncle began.

"Indeed." the young man, Addam, said, brushing his bangs behind his left ear. "And you are the famous Lord Eddard Stark, the Quiet Wolf. The one who guards the North. The one the King talks about _fel pe y bydd yfory byth yn dod_."

His uncle coughed. "When you are in a Lord's presence, _boy_ , you would do well to speak in a way that the Lord can understand. Clearly. Now. Explain what you just said."

"How blunt. It means 'as if tomorrow will never come.' I suppose you would typically say 'like there is no tomorrow.' It really means the same thing. I mean, one of Little Ned's favourite things to say to Robert is ' _dhéanann Amárach ann_ ,' which means-" Addam started.

"Enough." his uncle said in his lordly commanding voice. "We are not here for a discussion. My daughter Sansa has informed me of some happenings."

"Ah. Should have known she would come running to report on me, like any little bird." Addam said.

"What you have said is slander of the royal court, which is a serious offence." his uncle admonished.

"Is it? I didn't know." Addam replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Oh, young Stark, you never told me your name."

"I'm Edwyle Stark, son of Benjen and Rowena Stark." Edwyle said simply.

"Thank you, Edwyle." his uncle said. "Now, boy, you have not only slandered the royal court, most specifically the Crown Prince, but you also disrespected my house upon your arrival-"

"I don't have time for this. I demand that my judgement be passed by the King and the King alone. You cannot refuse me this, as I have done nothing that directly harms you or your family."

Eddard bristled at that. "Very well," he nearly spat out. "You have that right... You're dismissed back to your rooms until the feast. I will inform the King of the offences and the need to try you. _Anything else_ , and you will be shown to the dungeons." Addam smiled, stood up, and walked to the door, opening it before turning around.

"Oh, and Lord Stark." Addam said. Eddard looked up. "You needn't worry about formulating any punishments." His smile got wider. "Many would _peidiwch byth yn dod i basio._ " _[never come to pass.]_ He looked away from them, the smile falling from his face. "Or not even work in the first place." he added quietly as he closed the door.

Edwyle thought about what the man had done, and the subtleties of his actions, and what he had said. "That man." Edwyle said, looking carefully at his uncle. His uncle looked back at him. "He scares me."

* * *

 **A/N: So, chapter end. Edwyle really is an enigma of a character, even for me. I'm kinda making him up as I go along. He is one of the first OC's I thought up yet I don't entirely have a grasp on his personality. All I really have written down for him is: 'Loves his sister' and 'Abandonment issues'. Benjen ran off to the wall in grief after his wife died giving birth to their daughter, and Edwyle feels abandoned. I also apolgise for the way the chapter kinda jumps around with Edwyle's thoughts. He segues a lot into things this chapter, which, again, I apologise for.**

 **That last thing Addam said means "never come to pass."**

 **If you don't know the language Edwyle is speaking in throughout the chapter that is marked with an asterisk, it is Breton, a Celtic language spoken in Northwestern France. If I butchered the word order, I am sorry, but I cannot find any reliable information on the language that would allow me to be confident in writing it. In addition, I cannot translate it effectively, I can only translate one word at a time, which is very frustrating. The translations for what he said are as follows:**

 **"Aiou, ma fenn." = "Ow, my head."**

 **"Demat!" = roughly means "Hey!"**

 **"Bremañ." = "now/immediately."**

 **Finally, Myrcella in her brief cameo speaks in Scots (not Scots Gaelic, that is Celtic. Scots is a Germanic language.), which is honestly so close to English that you could probably guess what she is saying without a translation of it.**

 _ **Reviews are appreciated!**_


	6. Arya I

**A/N: Here's an update for you guys! I hope to have the next one done soon. On another note, I need to find a beta reader soon, am almost missing several of the mistakes I make, and I get nervous about my plot points sometimes.**

* * *

Arya hated the dress she was in. It seemed that the dress was sized completely wrong. It was too tight around her chest, making it hard to breathe. It was made worse by the fact that Sansa had told her that it was actually _loose_ for that type of dress. The seamstress had escorted her from her room to the entrance to the Great Hall from the passage toward the Great Keep.

Her Lord Father was standing there, in a grey doublet trimmed with white. He looked dignified, strong, an aura of power seemed to radiate off him in this way. The King was there in his own black doublet with a yellow trim. Without his extra clothes that he had ridden in, the King no longer looked quite as fat as he had when he arrived, and while he still had a potbelly, he looked much more like the 'Demon of the Trident' that her father had told stories about for years.

Beyond the King was the Queen, dressed in a silk red dress that had golden stitching, a jeweled tiara glittering in her hair, drawing the attention to her as the light reflected off her tiara. Standing next to her was the Prince Joffrey, who was wearing a red tunic trimmed with gold, as was the Prince Tommen. Not far to the right was the Princess Myrcella, now wearing a black dress with golden trimming. Arya's own mother was wearing a grey dress with white trimming, along with stripes of red and blue along the sides.

The same design was borne by Sansa, but she had even more red and blue, almost seeming to drown out the grey and white in her dress. Of course, Sansa was just beaming at Prince Joffrey, so no one paid much attention. Robb, Bran, and Rickon were all dressed in suitable grey and white tunics. Edwyle was standing in a grey tunic with a green outline, paying homage to his mother. Little Lyarra was wearing a grey dress with blue and green stitchings as she clung to Edwyle's leg. The two of them were with their father, her uncle Benjen Stark, who had come south from the Wall to speak with her father.

Of course, that left only one guest that was to be there missing. Arya looked about but couldn't find him. She was about to ask when she felt something brush her back. Looking behind her, she saw , or as she often called him, Ned, wore a black tunic with a yellow trim, and his hair was close trimmed to his head. He stood almost level with Arya, making him nearly a head shorter than his brother Joffrey. His cheeks and eye shape certainly looked like it came from his mother, whereas in nearly every other way he looked like a tiny version of his father. However, the main area where he differed was in his left eye. While his right eye was azure blue, the same as the King's, his left eye was a rich lilac, the colour that the stories always said about the dragon kings of old.

"It's really soft." he said quietly. Arya sighed.

"It's really tight, though." she replied.

"It's so easy to avoid that happening... why would they put _you_ in a dress that won't do anything for you." While most ladies would take offence at that, she knew he meant none. He rarely intended to offend anyone. Any further conversation was interrupted by the King loudly clearing his throat.

"Ned..." he began, and both her father and Edric looked at him. "No, not you, Edric, Ned Stark. Seven Hells, this will get confusing."

Her father nodded, before explaining everyone else would enter in. They lined up, her father waved, and the doors to the Great Hall opened. Edric took Arya's arm, and started forward behind his brother.

The feast hall was filled with men and women sitting at the tables, with the food in the middle of the table. Arya looked around at them, all looking at the Royal Family. Looking around, she saw Jon sitting at one of the lower tables with the squires. He gave her smile, and she smiled back. Looking at the boy escorting her, she saw him frown in Jon's direction, before quickly dropping it and smiling at her. Feeling heat rising in her face, she quickly turned away. She hated it when that happened. She had told him that before, yet he still continued to do that stupid, yet adorable, smile. It made him seem completely innocent.

They ascended to the high table, while her parents, the King, and the Queen ascended to the table set on the dias. Of course, she was to sit next to the boy she was paired with for the feast. The King stood up on dias then and announced the start of the feast with a toast to her father. When he finished, the feast began. After eating for a second, Edric began to speak.

"You know, Sansa was gloating earlier that she might be betrothed to Joffrey." he said. Arya swallowed her food before turning to look at him.

"I know, I was there when she was." she said. "I hope that if he does marry her, he has a very good steward. She can't run a household... she was never good at her sums."

"Aye. But since he'll be King, he can hire any person he wants to be his Steward." Edric said. Arya smiled. She liked it when he started to open up in conversation. It made him seem more... there.

"Are you sure he won't be Queen? Switch out the tunic for a dress and he would look like a Princess." Arya replied. The two of them shared a giggle at that.

"Do you really think our fathers will go through with... with the betrothal?" Edric asked, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

"I don't think my father wants to accept, but I know mother will want him to. Being the mother of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... nothing would please her more... mayhaps me behaving like a Southron lady." Arya replied.

"But most ladies in the south are just _so boring_." Edric whined loudly. "My cousin Cassana practices using daggers all the time. Myrcella is allowed to practice with a weapon all she wants because she is a Princess. Other than those two I don't know any Southern ladies who aren't boring in every way."

"Princess Myrcella uses weapons?" she asked.

"Yeah. You might see it while we're here, you might not. She doesn't show it, she usually has her nose buried in a book or a cyvasse game. She shows it, too. She often speaks the Southern Westerlands Tongue, but does speak the Vale's Tongue fluently. She's dabbled in the Northern Westerlands dialect, the Storm Tongue, the Reach's main language, High Valyrian, and what you speak here in the North, but none of those she can speak fluently, and can only use basic sentences in a few and only words in others." Edric said.

"Wow... I wish I could be like your sister." Arya said.

"Don't tell her that. Myrcella hates it that so many idolise her. She wants to just be left in peace. She has received a number of marriage offers, all of which father has turned down because she complained about it." Edric said solemnly. Arya frowned. She supposed she could understand. So many looking up to you, when all you want to do is continue on with life. Myrcella was only one and ten, still a child, and yet getting many marriage offers just for that.

"Well, to take our minds off this," Arya said, taking a scoop of beef stew with her spoon. "Think I can hit Sansa in her face from here?"

"Um... sure. I'll give you a gold dragon if you do." Edric said, watching out of the corner of his eye. Arya smiled and launched the beef stew right at her sister. It hit dead on the mark, sliding down her cheek and onto her dress.

"Arya!" her sister had cried, with a horrified look on her face. Ned and her on the other hand, couldn't stop laughing.

"After the feast." he whispered. Arya then looked away from her sister and down at the table, before grabbing another scoop of stew and tasting it herself. It tasted like victory.

* * *

 **A/N: Review please!**


	7. Jon I & Descendancy chart

**A/N: A good portion of the dialogue at the beginning is heavily based on Jon's first chapter from A Game of Thrones. As the story begins to diverge more, this will happen less often.**

* * *

There were very few times when Jon Snow was glad he was a bastard. This feast was one of them. His Lord Father couldn't stop him from drinking all the ale he wished down here at the squires' table. The air was hazy with smoke down there, and a bard was singing an old Northern song in the Old Tongue of the First Men. Jon thought he had seen the bard before, but quickly chalked it up to the bard having likely performed there before.

After Jon downed another cup of wine, he felt a brush at his legs. He looked down to see Ghost peeking up at him with his red eyes. After a confirmation from the little pup that he was hungry, Jon reached forward to cut a piece off the honeyed chicken on the table in front of him. However, as he was doing so, his knife got stuck in the chicken, and he couldn't cut through the chicken any further. However, Jon had an idea then. He pulled the chicken with the knife and tossed it to the ground, his knife coming free in the process.

Ghost immediately dove at the chicken and dug into it in complete silence. Jon's siblings weren't allowed to bring their wolves to the feast, despite pleadings from Arya on the matter. Lady Catelyn hadn't even considered it. However, down on the lower levels, there were so more hounds than Jon could even care to count. He saw several following the serving girls looking for food. Of course, watching too long caused his eyes to water from the smoke. Stopping to rub his eyes, he looked down to see another dog try to take some of the chicken from Ghost. After a brief standoff, the other dog fled.

"This one of the direwolf pups I heard about?" he heard a voice from behind him say. Turning around, Jon saw his uncle Benjen standing there in his grey speckled black uniform.

"Aye." Jon said. "His name is Ghost." At the sound of his name, Ghost looked up at Jon, before returning to eating his chicken. One of the squires stopped telling a story and moved over to make room for Benjen to sit next to Jon. He took the cup of wine from Jon's hands with little protest. "Summerwine." He said after a taste. "Some of the sweetest anywhere. And how many cups have you had?" Jon just smiled at him. Benjen sighed. "I feared as much. It is of little consequence. I was around 15 when I first got truly and sincerely drunk." he said, taking some food from the table.

Benjen looked down at Ghost intently. "He's very quiet."

Jon looked at his wolf then back at his uncle. "Aye, that's why I named him Ghost, he rarely makes a sound. That and he's white. His siblings are all either dark or grey."

"I've heard direwolves beyond the wall. They howl in the night, causing even hardened veterans of a hundred rangings fear for their lives, and fear cuts deeper than any sword." Benjen said, a hint of sadness with that saying. "Don't you usually eat up at the table with your brothers?"

"Mostly." Jon replied flatly. "But tonight Lady Stark felt it would be an insult to the Royal Family to seat a bastard amongst them. Ne-Prince Edric may have appreciated my company, but the other royals may not."

"I see." Benjen said, looking up at the high table. Jon's attention flicked to where Arya was sitting and talking with Edric, before both looked to their right. Jon looked in that direction and saw Theon's cousin raising a wine cup at them before turning back to his own part of the table. "My brother doesn't seem to be enjoying the festivities."

Jon had noticed, but had chosen not to say anything about that. His father had followed courtesy, but he had an aura of caution about him, and a tightness in his face that he rarely exhibited. Whereas a few seats away, the King was currently enjoying himself, eating into both his latest dish as the mouth of a serving girl. The Queen gave the King a hard look before beginning to converse with Lady Stark. "The Queen is angry, too. Father took the King down to the crypts, the Queen didn't want him to go."

Benjen chuckled slightly. "You don't miss much, do you Jon? I wish there were more men like that in the Watch."

Jon felt his pride swell up. "Robb is the better lance, but I'm the better sword, and I can ride just as well as any in the castle."

"Notable achievements."

"Take me with you when you go back to the Wall." Jon said quickly. "Father will give me leave to go if you ask him, I know he will."

Benjen turned and looked at Jon sternly. "The Wall isn't all you think it is, Jon. It is a hard place, even for hard men."

"I'm a man grown, I'm seven-and-ten, I'll be eight and ten come my next nameday, and Maester Luwin told me bastards grow up faster than trueborn children." Jon said.

"Aye, that's true. But you also must think of what you leave behind." Benjen said, filling up Jon's cup and downing it quickly. "Even if I only joined the watch for five years, it is still five years I must spend on the Wall, or be considered a deserter as much as any brother sworn for life. My son thinks I abandoned him, and I don't even know my daughter beyond her name."

"I have no such attachments. I want to serve in the Night's Watch, uncle." Jon insisted.

"Do you understand what you ask, Jon? The men of the Night's Watch have no family. Their wife is duty, their mistress is honour. If you go to the Wall, you will certainly choose to spend the rest of your life there. I have vowed to myself that when my five years are finished I will swear for life. The Watch is in a sorry state, they need all the good men they can get." Benjen replied.

"Then why-" Jon began.

"You may be a man grown, but you still don't understand what you'd give up." Benjen continued. "Come." he said standing up. "We shall continue this outside the hall, people are paying too close attention to us." Benjen began to walk toward the door to the courtyard, and Jon stood up and followed him, Ghost hot on his heels, having finished off the chicken. Jon stood at the door and looked back at his siblings.

In that moment, Arya launched a spoonful of stew at Sansa, which hit her cheek and slid down her face before landing on her dress. Lady Stark made a signal to Robb, who walked over to Arya and picked her up out of her seat and moved to the other side of the table to send to bed. However, immediately after, Prince Edric stood up and seemed to say something to Robb. While Robb was facing in his direction and seemed to not like what he was saying, though what the Prince was saying in return Jon could not tell.

At one point, Robb turned away toward Arya, and Edric grabbed his arm to try and stop him. Robb flicked his arm to shake the boy off, and he fell backward, tripping and crashing through a chair at the high table. Suddenly the entire hall went very quiet as the King himself stood up from his seat, and Jon heard, though didn't see, steel being drawn. Robb, for his part, looked shocked at what had just occurred. However, the boy was on the ground shaking, and Arya ran over to him as Addam Greyjoy slowly made his way over to him.

Due to where Greyjoy was standing, Jon was unable to see what transpired, but Addam helped Edric to his feet, and they began to make their way out of the hall, as Arya walked toward the opposite exit. After Addam and Edric had walked by, Jon began to turn out of the hall. Lady Stark looked furious, the Queen looked annoyed, the King seemed unhappy, and his father seemed the same as he had been, only more so.

Exiting the hall, he saw Addam checking Edric over, looking at him as if to see that he wasn't injured. The moment he saw Jon however, he stopped and turned to face him, crossing his arms.

"Another Stark?" Addam asked.

"No." Edric interjected. "He's Jon Snow, Lord Stark's natural son."

"Ah. A bastard." Addam surmised, seeming to size him up. "Well, he certainly looks more like a Stark than any of Lord Eddard's other children, barring Little Stark."

"Didn't she ask you to stop calling her that?"

"I don't mean it in any cruel way, so I don't see why I should."

"Excuse me." Jon said to the two of them. "What exactly happened in the hall?" Both of their faces darkened.

"Wouldn't you like to know." Addam said, before spinning on his heel and walking away, Edric shook his head slowly at Jon before following after him.

"Charming pair, aren't they?" Jon heard a voice say from behind him. He turned to see the imp, Tyrion Lannister, walking up behind him. "Don't blame them too much. Addam takes time to understand, I know from experience. Edric puts on armour around himself, and it takes a steady hand to open that shell."

"How would you know much about them." Jon asked him.

"Simple. Addam is my cousin and he has lived in King's Landing for eight years. Ample time to understand someone. As for Edric, he's my nephew, and I have known the boy for most of his life. I knew him before he was like that, and I know how he became like that." the imp replied.

"How did he become like that?" Jon asked. He had always wondered that. During the times they would see each other, the boy rarely spoke unless it was necessary, and never really showed anything about himself. However, in the past few months, Arya had been able to get him to talk more and he had started to respond to Jon, if only minimally.

The imp shook his head. "I cannot say, unfortunately. If you wish to know, he will have to tell you of his own accord. I will not tell someone of it behind his back." he said, as he opened the door and walked into the hall.

Jon wished to think on his words, but then shook his head. He had to find his uncle, after all. There would be plenty of time to think on the Imp's words later.

* * *

 **A/N: Please review! Also, since a guest asked for it, a descendancy chart ( underlined represents an OC, Italics is a Lord.):**

 ** _House Baratheon  
_  
Descendants of Steffon Baratheon:**

- _King Robert Baratheon_ (b. 264) m. Cersei Lannister (b. 266)  
-Prince Joffrey Baratheon (b. early 286)  
-Prince Edric Baratheon (b. late 286)  
-Princess Myrcella Baratheon (b. 290)  
-Prince Tommen Baratheon (b. 291)  
-14 bastard children

- _Lord Stannis Baratheon_ m. Delena Florent  
-Lyonel Baratheon (b. 288)  
-Cassana Baratheon (b. 289, Shireen's twin)  
-Shireen Baratheon (b. 289, Cassana's twin)  
-Ormund Baratheon (b. 298)

- _Lord Renly Baratheon_

 ** _House Arryn_**

Descendants of Jasper Arryn:

- _Lord Jon Arryn_ (b. 219 d. 300) m. Jeyne Royce m. Rowena Arryn (childless)  
-Jeyne Arryn (stillborn)

-Ronnel Arryn (b. 223 d. 265) m. Sylvia Belmore (b. 246 d. 297)  
- _Lord Elbert Arryn_ (b. 265) m. Lysa Tully (b. 267)  
-Robert Arryn (b. 286)  
-Jon Arryn (b. 289, stillborn)  
-Jasper Arryn (b. 294)  
-Minisa Arryn (b. 294, lived for only a few days, Jasper's twin)  
-Sylvia Arryn (b. 296, stillborn)  
-Rowena Arryn (b. 300)

-Alys Arryn (b. 230 d. 275) m. Elys Waynwood (b. 224)  
 **-** Irya Waynwood (b. 253) m. Denys Arryn (b. 261)  
-'Little' Jon Arryn (b. 282) m. Ysilla Royce (b. 281)  
-Donnel Arryn (b. 286)

 **-** Jasper Waynwood (b. 253 d. 256)  
 **-** Kyla Waynwood (b. 255 d. 259)  
 **-** Shilya Waynwood (b. 256 d. 259)  
 **-** Clemensa Waynwood (b. 260) (Silent Sister)  
-Lyonel Stone (b. 276, stillborn)

 **-** Cathryn Waynwood (b. 262) m. Lymond Bracken (b. 259)[Lord Bracken's younger brother]  
-Hendry Bracken (b. 279)  
-Kyla Bracken (b. 283)

 **-** Meredyth Waynwood (b. 264) m. Ser Gylbert Hardyng (b. 260)  
-Harrold Hardyng

 **-** Rowena Waynwood (b. 265, d. 297) m. Benjen Stark (b. 267)  
-Edwyle Stark (b. 287)  
-Lyarra Stark (b. 297)

 **-** Tarysa Waynwood (b. 267) m. Lord **  
-Aloysius ** (born 288)  
The stars there indicate spoilers, btw.  
 ** _House Lannister_**

Descendants of Jason Lannister:

by serving girl:  
-Lynora Hill (b. 242, d. 299)

by Alys Stackspear:  
-Damon Lannister (b. 245, d. 296) m. Ella Lannister[Lannisport] (b. 250, d. 298)  
-Damion Lannister (b. 265) m. Shiera Crakehall (b. 257, d. 275)

by Marla Prester:

-Joanna Lannister (b. 247, d. 273) m. Tywin Lannister  
- _We all know their children_

-Stafford Lannister (b. 249) m. Myranda Lefford (b. 252)  
-Daven Lannister (b. 274)  
-Cerenna Lannister (b. 276)  
-Myrielle Lannister (b. 278)

-Gerold Lannister (b. 252 d. 275)  
-Jeyne Lannister (b. 253, d. 261)  
-Cerenna Lannister (b. 255, d. 282) m. Victarion Greyjoy (b. 257)  
-Addam Greyjoy (b. 278)

-Addam Lannister (b. 258, d. 261)

 **If you have any further questions on this, feel free to leave a review or PM me.**


	8. The Young Dragon I

**A/N: This takes place a few months before the other chapters. I think this is one of the biggest examples of how my worldbuilding has changed things. You'll see what I mean.**

 **Also, sorry this took so long, I rewrote this chapter several times because... I just wasn't satisfied, and then my computer died, and I had to start again again. But now I am done, and I hope you all like it!**

* * *

Aegon had grown quite tired of seeing grass. The problem was, that's all he could see. Looking out over the ridge, the greenery stretched out as far as Aegon's eyes could see. There were no mountains, and they had passed out of the Forest of Qohor, opening up to the wide plains of Essaria. They rode along the Valyrian road for days. In the days of the Old Freehold, caravans could travel unmolested from Sarnath to Tyrosh, and now a caravan had to pay for Dothraki protection to the borders of the Free Cities, and even then could not guarantee their protection, not since the Great Khal's death three years past.

However, that was neither here nor there, as he was part of Khal Drogo's group now, serving in the same capacity as the Westerosi Knight, Mormont. He was known as "Young Griffon" or "Little Griffon" based on his association with Jon Connington, who had worn a tabard with a griffon on it. Unfortunately, he couldn't do as his uncle had asked him to. "Grow close to her, Aegon. Become an invaluable counsel to her." his granduncle had told him. Unfortunately, Mormont seemed to take that role, due to the fact that he at least had passing knowledge of Dothraki. Aegon's Dothraki... was basic, and didn't go beyond simple phrases, but he was determined to learn the language.

The wind blew his blue dyed hair into his face, as he brushed it aside. It had to be dyed, his natural silver would be far too suspicious, and blue helped the lilac of his eyes look more blue, thus enhancing his disguise even further. After brushing the hair out of his face he over at the hoard of Dothraki. Bronze skinned riders, leathers covering the lengths of their bodies, with a few wearing some steel mail. Many of them carried a bow with arrows along with an arakh, a sword with a curve near the end of it. Some of the Khos even carried Fire-lances from Yi-Ti, a wooden stick attached to a spear that shot flames and iron pellets toward whatever they were pointing at.

Then Aegon's focus shifted to Daenerys on her silver mare riding down the cliffside. He smiled as he watched her. She always brought out a smile in him, in a way that only Jon had managed to before. Thinking of Jon made him remember why he was on the hills of Essaria. With Qohor and Volantis forming an alliance to cleanse the Rhoyne of Piracy, it was no longer safe to hide on the Rhoyne whenever trouble came near. Thus he was to go east of it for a time. " _You must help her, Aegon, your father's sister. Your claim will be doubted by many, her claim will be doubted by none. She will secure the throne. But first you must secure her_."

Aegon rode toward the ridge. It had been hard at first, but as time went by it became easier to sit in the saddle of the horse. As he rode toward the passage down, one of the riders who spoke Valyrian told him, "The Khaleesi commands that we wait at the top of the ridge." He had given the rider a response of confirmation, stopping his horse and taking a deep breath. The breeze, coupled with the grass blowing in waves made Aegon feel almost tranquil.

That tranquility was shattered almost immediately when his uncle began complaining. "She dares?!" Viserys growled. "She dares to command me?!" he directed his horse in the direction of the cliffside.

"I advise against that, Your Grace. The Dothraki do not take it kindly when the khal or khaleesi are disobeyed." Mormont said.

"The Dragon is not ordered!" He screamed as he spurned his horse, charging down the path on the cliffside.

"Damn..." Aegon muttered before spurning his own horse to move toward the cliffside. The Dothraki paid him little heed as they began to form up themselves. He rode down the path, until he reached the tall grass at the bottom of the ridge. He turned to look above him, and saw riders trotting down the path that led down the cliffside.

Confidence restored, he turned and rode into the high grass. "HOW DARE YOU?!" A shout rang out from the grass. Aegon spurred his horse harder as he rode toward the source of the noise. The grass swiped at him, as his speed increased. Suddenly, he burst into a clearing and reined his horse to a stop. His eyes widened a bit as he saw Daenerys sitting on the ground holding herself up, and Viserys standing in front of her, looking at him in annoyance.

"Little Griffon." Viserys stated.

Aegon gave a light bow, his frown deepening. "Your Grace."

"It's about time you showed up. She," Viserys pointed to Dany, "has dared to try and order The Dragon. The Dragon is not ordered! She deserves to be punished for it."

Aegon hops down off his horse whilst he is talking. "Your Grace." he attempts to reason with him. "You are the King of the Seven Kingdoms, not of the Dothraki. She is their Queen-"

"A Queen of _savages_!" he barks out. "The Dragon is not ordered!"he spins and slaps his sister back to the ground as she tried to stand. As he moves closer to her, Aegon reaches out and grabs his wrist.

"'tis bad luck for a King to beat his heir." Aegon said in the most cautionary voice he could muster. Viserys looked almost shocked for a moment, before pulling his hand away, but he made no further motions toward his sister. Aegon turned, and as he did so, heard the south of steel against leather. Quickly, he kicked his leg behind him, hitting Viserys, before turning quickly around and driving his fist into his uncle's gut.

 _Is this man truly my uncle?_ Aegon thought to himself. _Or is he truly just a younger form of my grandfather?_ As Viserys fell to the ground, Aegon grabbed his sword from his hand. The rest of the Khalasar chose that moment to show up, one of the Khos even hefting his Fire Lance and a black rock, pointing it at Viserys with a furious look on his face. Aegon stabbed the blade into the ground and went to help up Daenerys. She took his hand as he pulled her to her feet.

He turned to look at the man hefting the Fire-Lance, who was speaking. Mormont helpfully translated. "He wishes to execute him, and asks if he has your leave to do so." Daenerys looked up at Mormont, then back at her brother. One of the other Dothraki said something, causing some of the others to laugh.

One of her handmaidens translated, "Quaro says you should take an ear and a hand. an ear for respect, a hand for striking you."

Viserys was writhing on the ground still groaning from the punch Aegon had given him. In this state, he looked almost pitiful.

"Say I do not wish him harmed." her handmaiden translated Daenerys' words into Dothraki. The copper-skinned man glared at Viserys, before slinging his Fire-Lance over his back.

"We warned him." Aegon said. "Said what'd happen should he follow."

"I know." she said. "Take his horse and sword. Let him walk back to the Khalassar unarmed."

" _ **NO!**_ " Viserys screamed, sitting up. "Mormont!" he screamed in High Valyrian. "Beat her, hurt her, kill these savages and that traitorous Griffon and teach her a lesson about disobeying the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms!"

Mormont simply looked at him, then back at Daenerys and Aegon, before nodding his head. "He will walk behind us unarmed. Little Griffon, take the sword."

Aegon blinked at that, then nodded, picking up Viserys' sword and climbing up onto his horse. "Your Grace." he called in High Valyrian. "You may be the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, but we are not in the Seven Kingdoms; we're in Essos, where no Lord of the Sunset Kingdoms has ever held lordship over."

His eyes then shifted back to Dany, and upon his eyes meeting hers his face heated up slightly; he quickly force himself to look away lest he make a fool of himself. He placed Viserys' sword on his belt as he caught up with the rest of the group, leaving Viserys and his crazed screams behind. Dany and Mormont shared some comments about Viserys, but Aegon wasn't interested in such discussions. If he was truly honest, he felt no love for Viserys. He would never reclaim Westeros for House Targaryen, he would land on the shore and suffer a mutiny within a fortnight, forever sullying their house name, in the way Maelys had done for the Blackfyres.

Aegon shut his eyes and thought deeply. " _Daemon and Daeron… both my forebears, both whom I have a duty to reclaim Westeros for… Queen Jaehaera, whose descendants were cheated out of their throne by my other ancestors' treachery… funny how it all comes back around. Had Rhaenys survived, we may have been even stronger._ " He could barely remember his sister now, only remembering a copper blur yelling "Egg!" at his crib. Poor girl having met her end from 50 stabs from a Lannister bannerman. He had already been on a ship to Essos, some poor infant from Flea Bottom having died in his place.

He often said a prayer to the Seven for the boy's soul at Jon's insistence, despite being unable to be actively religious unless he happened to be in Braavos. "De Zeven zijn een integraal onderdeel van wie we zijn." **[The Seven are an integral part of our lives]** They always told him. Septs were found all around the city, in addition to the shrines that were built for the Moonsingers that led them to the lagoon that their city was built upon. The two made up more than half of the religious buildings in the city.

Aegon was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when the Khalasar stopped to make their camp. It would not be long now before they arrived at Essaria, maybe a few more days. He took a deep breathe before dismounting his horse and nodding a 'thank you' to the servant (or maybe slave? He couldn't tell) taking his horse. The rest of the evening passed uneventful, despite Viserys (finally) catching up late that night.

* * *

 **Review Please!**


	9. Catelyn II

**A/N: I'm so sorry it took this long to write the update, my writers block was a killer. So, without further ado, let's get started.**

* * *

It had been hours since the feast had ended and all in attendance had retired to their rooms. Catelyn's rooms were the hottest of the rooms in Winterfell. The castle had been built upon natural hot-springs, which meant little in summer, but during winter it was the difference between life and death. It was warm enough that she rarely had to light a fire, even in the dead of winter. Ned climbed off her then, walking to the shutters that he threw open, letting the cool autumn air flow into the room.

"I must refuse him." Ned said. His voice carried a haunted tone, in a similar tone as men coming back from war spoke of the horrors that befell them.

"You cannot." Catelyn said, sitting up. "You _must_ not refuse him."

"My duty is here as Warden of the North, Cat. There is far too much to do. I have no desire to be Robert's Hand." he said.

"He won't understand." Catelyn replied. "He is a king now. Kings are not like other men. If you refuse, he will wonder why you have. The thoughts and paranoia will eat away at him, and continue to do so until our entire family is-"

Ned turned to face her. "Robert wouldn't harm me or any of my blood. We are closer to each other than we are to our brothers. He loves me more than either of them, and he is like a third brother to me. He will curse and shout for a time and before he leaves we'll laugh about it as he leaves. I know the man!"

"You knew him." Catelyn said. "The man is not who he once was." She remembered what had been described to her, the omen of the direwolf dead with a stag's antler in it's throat. He _had_ to see. "A king's pride is everything, my lord. He came all this way to offer you these honours, you cannot throw them back at him."

"Honours?"

"He sees them as such."

"Do you?"

" _I do_." Catelyn shifted back, angry now. Why couldn't he see what she was saying? "He offers his eldest son in marriage to our daughter, what else would you call it but an honour? Sansa would one day be queen, and her sons would rule from the Wall to the deserts of Dorne. What is so wrong with that?"

" _En chaous..._ " **[Damn it]** he said."Cat, Sansa is three-and-ten, yet she still doesn't understand the ways of the world. She is still too young for that. And Joffrey... Joffrey is..."

"The crown prince, and the heir to the Iron Throne of Westeros. I was only twelve when I was betrothed to your brother, Brandon." Cat said. She had nothing to say of Sansa's naïveté. Catelyn agreed that she needed to learn the ways of the world, but there was a time for everything and now was not the time for her to learn. Perhaps she would teach her before her wedding, but not now.

Ned's mouth twisted. "Brandon. Of course, Brandon would know what to do, wouldn't he? It was all meant for him. You, Winterfell, the North, he was meant to be King's Hand and father to queens, I never asked for this cup."

Cat looked him dead in the eyes. "It matters not that you didn't ask for this cup, you must drink it all the same. When your king has need of you, for the sake of your family you must obey."

"I obeyed when he sent his son here to grow up amongst our children ten moons past, I feared you were still cursing his name."

"That's not the same. Arya had nothing covering her top. And they were alone in a closed room."

"Yet nothing happened. If he'd harboured ill intentions towards her, he would not have stayed here." Ned said, seeming to get a haunted look in his eyes.

"Yet Sansa came away with a welt on her face!"Catelyn all but yelled, before putting her hands over her face. Ned looked at her carefully. Catelyn softened at that. Yet then it came to her as she remembered the careful explanation of what had actually happened, and she suddenly felt a heavy wave of guilt wash over her.

"I'm... I'm sorry." She said, finally. "That was... I promised to not... it was..."

"No, Cat. I apologise. I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Cat looked down. It had been nearly 3 moons past. Sansa had stumbled upon that scene, and had run to her with a mark on her face. Her reaction had been less than dignified, especially because the boy was a Prince, and you had to show respect to the royal family. Even the faith had begrudgingly accepted it, while the conciliator had promised to defend the faith he also issued decrees making sure the royals could control it. Even Baelor the Blessed hadn't repealed these decrees.

Catelyn prepared to go to Ned, when a loud knock came at the door. Ned frowned deeper and turned to the door. "What is it?"

Desmond responded. "My lord, Maester Luwin is outside, and begs urgent audience."

"You have told him I left orders not to be disturbed?"

"Yes, my lord. He insists."

"Very well then, send him in." Ned crossed to his wardrobe and put on a heavy cloak. A sudden breeze made Catelyn suddenly realise how cold it was. She clutched the heavy blankets close to her. "Perhaps you should shut the windows." she said. Ned nodded, not particularly paying attention, as Maester Luwin was shown in.

"My lord." he said with a bow. "I apologise for disturbing your rest, but it was urgent." After checking that the door was closed, he faced Ned. "A rider arrived not minutes ago. He told me that he carries a message."

"I believe I should meet him in my solar." Ned said then.

"My lord... he requested both your presence and that of the Lady Catelyn." the maester replied.

"Why would he-" Catelyn began.

"I know not. Shall I direct him to the solar then?" Luwin asked.

"Yes... please do so." Ned replied. Catelyn climbed out of the bed and slid a dress of blue and red onto herself.

"Gods, Ned. Who could be here now?" she asked.

"We will see, shan't we?" he replied. They entered through the door that connected the Lord's Solar to the Lord's Bedchamber. A small fire had been lit, presumably by a servant under Maester Luwin's orders. Ned turned to the door as Maester Luwin returned.

"He is outside the door. Shall I summon him in?" he asked.

"Aye." Ned replied. The maester nodded obediently and shuffled back to the door, and opened it, beckoning another inside.

The rider was dressed in grey clothing, with a hood pulled over his head. His clothes were worn from traveling, and his legs looked uneasy, likely from spending so much time in the saddle. He reached up and removed his hood, revealing a mess of blonde hair and bright blue eyes... Tully blue eyes. Both Ned and Catelyn recognised the boy immediately.

"Robert?" Catelyn asked, knowing it was her nephew yet at the same time uncertain.

"Yes, Aunt Catelyn. I'm... sorry to come to you like this. I hope I'm welcome to be here right now." he replied, looking ashamed.

"Robert... of course you'd be welcome, but why would you ride to us in the night like this?" Ned asked.

"My mother gave me a letter, and told me to bring it to Aunt Catelyn by riding along the Kingsroad to avoid anyone seeing me. I was also to dress in common riding clothing, to avoid anyone recognising me even if they did see me." Robert replied.

"That was incredibly dangerous, if you'd been found by bandits or by anyone else, you may have been killed!" Catelyn admonished. She could hardly believe her sister would allow her son to do such a thing, let alone tell him to do so. Robert nodded, and produced a letter from a small leather satchel that he carried at his side. He handed her the letter. It was sealed with blue wax containing the falcon of House Arryn.

"Mother told me that only you would understand it." he said. Catelyn tensed herself, and opened the letter.

* * *

 **A/N: I finally finished with... a less that satisfactory update in my mind. But it's the best I'm going to get it. I cut it off here, because the letter and following scene is essentially the same as canon, and it felt redundant stuffing extra words in there. If you read the descendency chart I made, Robert is the son of Elbert Arryn and Lysa, and the new heir to the Vale. I did deliberately leave some pieces of information off of it, and as the story progresses, so too will the trees be updated. See you all next chapter.**

 **Please Review**


	10. Arya II

Arya's stitches were crooked. Again. She had asked the Septa to allow her to use her left hand, but she had refused. It was impious to the Seven, she said. According to her, those who were judged positively went to the Father's right upon being judged, whereas those who were judged negatively went to their left. Using the left hand was impious and should be met with scorn.

Of course, once the Septa had finished up her little tirade on the impiety of using one's left hand, Arya had left with the excuse of 'going to shoe a horse.' The Septa was lucky Ned had never heard that comment about her having the hands of a blacksmith, it probably wouldn't have ended well. She closed her eyes, briefly remembering Sansa's screams in the Godswood, her lying in the dirt.

That had been a disaster. Not Sansa getting hit, that was funny. But a guard had shown up not long after and-.

She took a deep breath. Thinking on that now would only cause more pain. She tried to think of happier thoughts, like the pups that her brothers had brought back a few months previous. Each of them were large enough to be considered full sized dogs now. Arya had gotten her pup from her father, who had carried her back to the castle. Nymeria, she had named her, after the warrior Princess. Of course, Ned just started calling her Nym, which drove Arya up the wall. Her wolf was not a little kid, she was a direwolf that deserved more respect than that nickname gave her.

Musing on this, Arya walked down the hallway, eventually tripping and crashing into a wad of blonde.

"Does anyone pay attention in this place?!" a voice yelled as Arya disentangled herself from the one whom she'd crashed into. When she looked at them, Arya was surprised to see the sea green eyes of the Princess Myrcella.

"Your Grace, I apologise, I was preoccupied w-" Arya started. She was gently shushed by the Princess, who put up her right hand at her. Their eyes calmly met each other's. Only one and ten and she was already a great beauty. Her eyes seemed to indicate… understanding almost.

"You are perfectly fine… Arya, wasn't it?" she asked, putting her hand down.

"Yes, that's my name." Arya replied.

"Well, I'm Myrcella. If you do not mind. You need not use my title when not around others." she smiled brightly and curtseyed. "Least I can do for my brother's only remaining friend." Arya's eye twitched at that. She hated being reminded of that, it always made her sad. "So you do know." She looked at Arya carefully, eyes narrowed. "Have you-"

"I've told no one." she replied quickly, hoping to get their minds off that subject quickly. "Septa Mordane asked after you, you weren't there today." The Princess giggled, then began laughing heartily. Her laughter almost made Arya want to laugh.

"I don't need to learn sewing, Ned says I'm good enough at it." Myrcella said, stopping her laughing.

"What about your parents? What do they say about it?" Arya asked. Ned never talked much about his family, after all. Myrcella's smile dropped, and she turned away, beckoning Arya to follow her. She did so, and they walked down the corridors, passing mostly servants who gave polite bows toward Myrcella. Once they were alone, Myrcella stopped.

"Mother doesn't pay much attention to anyone whose name isn't Joffrey." she said. "I did try to show Father once… he smiled and said it was pretty, then went back to rubbing a whore's teats. Better than I got out of Mother, at least. She didn't even look at it." Myrcella looked down at her feet.

"I spent nearly 3 years with mostly Ned and Addam. When other girls that were sent to King's Landing to befriend me talk about their fathers, most of the things they talk about are things that Ned does for me. He helped me up when I fell, carried me around, played with me when I wanted attention, compliments my good works, criticizes my less good..." she took a deep breath. "That's why I say I'm just a Baratheon. I don't care for my mother enough to call myself both a Baratheon and a Lannister."

"Of course, that hasn't matter as much re"- she continued, but a soft sound interrupted her.

"-and not a soul to hear." the soft singing sound came from down the hallway. Myrcella smiled brightly.

"He doesn't do this much, let's go!" Myrcella whispered excitedly, grabbing Arya's wrist and pulling her to the corner, peeking around the corner. Arya peeked around with the girl. Ned was sitting against the wall, spinning a stick in his hand.

" _'Oh hear my call,' the lookout cried, his eyes upon the vale,_ _I see sunlight upon armour, many riders on the trail,_ _But still Lord Reyne of Castamere harped on his elegy_ _'No Stripling boy, untried by arms, will play lord over me!'_ "

Suddenly he stopped and was staring at them. He blinked, then smiled lightly. "Seven Hells, 'Cella, I asked you not to spy on me."

"You sing?" Arya asked. The boy's face turned a shade of crimson as he tried not to meet her eyes.

"Please don't tell anyone. Singing is thought to be within a lady's purview amongst Southron nobility. I'd never hear the end of it." he begged.

"Don't worry about it, you silly stag." Arya said, offering her hand to help him up. "I already keep one of your secrets, you don't need to ask me to keep more." Ned's face dropped at that.

"Yeah… thanks." he said sadly, his eyes deliberately not meeting hers, as he took her hand and she helped him up. The three of them walked quietly down the halls toward northern part of the castle.

"I thought the boys were sparring in the courtyard today? Why aren't you there?" Arya asked Ned.

"I didn't want to go." he replied.

"But Ned! If you don't try, you'll never get better." Myrcella said.

"I do try, just not against the likes of Robb and Jon." Ned muttered. They stepped onto the covered bridge overlooking the courtyard. Jon was sitting on the sill, watching carefully. Looking out the window, Bran and Prince Tommen, covered head to toe in padding, went at it with their training swords. Tommen was quick and nimble but Bran was able to defend against the young Prince's strikes.

Of course, it was all for naught when Tommen feinted and tripped Bran with his foot as he stepped back. Bran fell hard on his back and caused a cloud of dirt to rise up around him. The men laughed at his display. Prince Tommen stood over him, his sword crossed over his shoulder, ready to strike Bran again once he regained his feet.

"Enough!" Ser Rodrik called. He gave Bran a hand and yanked him to his feet. "Well fought." He waved to two of the guardsmen. "Help them out of their armour."

"Do you see Prince Joffrey's coat of arms?" Jon asked. Arya hadn't, but she looked down at it and saw an elaborate divided coat of arms on his doublet, with a lion on one side and a stag on the other.

"Aye." Ned said, leaning against the wall next to the window. "He does call himself 'Prince Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister.' My mother's family is immensely proud of their name. She still uses the Lannister name, rather than the Baratheon one. If Joff had the choice, he'd just call himself a Lannister in all likelihood.

My brother is certainly proud of his crest, he spent several days and went through several seamstresses to get that emblazoned on his doublet properly."

Arya rolled her eyes. "You can say that again."

"Um… I didn't say anything?" he replied.

"Yes you did." she said. Myrcella and Jon looked at her like she was crazy, while Ned's eyes went wide and he began to back up. His facial expression was one of pure fear, something he seemed to never exhibit.

"Don't... say anything, just… just nod if you can hear me." he said shakily. She nodded carefully. His eyes widened intensely. "Oh no… no this cannot be happening! Why me?!" he screamed. Myrcella was looking rapidly back and forth between the two of them worriedly. "Oh no, I'm gonna worry 'Cella, everyone's gonna think I'm a freak again, I'm gonna be alone again, oh no..."

The boy turned and darted away, and Arya took off after him. He was darting in between corridors and around corners, yet she never lost him. More and more halls were passed, and Arya's breaths grew heavier, yet still she persisted. Eventually she came to a small room hidden away in the bowels of the castle.

Inside the room there was a small, locked trunk, and Ned was sitting curled on top of it, shaking and sobbing. She had barely even slowed down before charging over to him to wrapping her arms around him.

"You silly stag." she said calmly. "I won't leave you alone just like that; you're my friend."

"How can you be so sure... They always said that to me… and none still call themselves. ..my friends." he choked through sobs.

"The ones that are still alive may yet have forgiven you… recognized that it wasn't your fault that the others died." Arya said.

"But it was! If I hadn't ever known them… the goldcloaks wouldn't have… Mother wouldn't have..." he couldn't finish before the sobs came back in full force.

"Neither of which you were directly involved in. They should have recognized that by now. At least… if they were ever really your friends, they should have." she replied.

"I don't know… I haven't spoken with them in a year."

"Then go. Talk to them." Arya pulled back and looked him in the eyes. "Tell them everything. They have to understand, Ned."

"Maybe... " he muttered quietly, his eyes softening slightly. "Maybe" he repeated. Ned continued to remain curled up for what felt like several minutes, before finally unfurling and putting hanging his legs off the trunk.

"You won't be there to see." he said. "Lord Stark plans to bring Sansa and Bran south with him, your mother talked him out of taking you." Ned said, the tears beginning to subside.

"What?" Arya asked, shocked at the news, "Why would she abandon what she would see as an opportunity to get me to act like a Southron lady?"

"Me." he said simply.

"What do you have anything to do with it?" she asked.

"In your mother's eyes I am detriment to your lady like education. It shouldn't be all that bad. Sansa will be stuck in King's Landing with my brother, they will wed whenever she bleeds. The Circlehome should choose a new Elder Sister for the lady's education soon, and with the Septa in the south with Sansa, life should begin to improve for you." Ned explained.

The Circlehome was the main home of the clerics of the Gods, what her mother and other Southrons call the 'Old Gods.' They always renounced their family names upon joining. In light of this, they had family stylings as their titles. New members were Little Brother or Sister, and Full members were Elder Brother or Sister.

The Elder Sister that had been assigned to Winterfell's household had left little over a month ago to become a wandering Green Woman to spread stories of the Gods to others. Her uncle Benjen had considered joining before eventually deciding on a temporary stay in the Night's Watch.

"That's stupid… I want to act like a lady, but the Septa and the other girls keep making it so difficult!" she replied. She put her finger to her lips stilling any further conversation, she could hear a rapid _clap clap_ of boots rushing over stone floors. She let go of Ned to face the door, fearful that someone had heard them. The next moment, Princess Myrcella and Jon came running around the corner.

"Arya! Ned!" the Princess all but yelled as she ran into the room. She stopped, before bending over, panting. "I've been looking everywhere for you two! I couldn't find you, so I ran back to the bridge and asked your brother there for help."

"I remembered the Prince running here once, and the Princess asked me for my help, I was bound to serve." Jon said."Besides, following the Princess around the castle is more enjoyable than watching Robb curse the Prince Joffrey for making him look like a child."

"Well let us hope that Robb doesn't actually curse him… mother would cast him out, she and the Septa abhor magic in any form." Arya japed lightly. That elicited a giggle from the other occupants of the room. After some brief talking, the group seperated, Arya returning to her room, Jon going off on his own, and Ned and Myrcella going to their family. When Arya finally arrived back at her rooms, she found the Septa waiting for her… with her mother. Life enjoyed kicking her when she was on the ground, it seemed.


	11. Myrcella I

As the wolf howled again, the young princess opened her eyes. Soft sunlight shone through the windows of her room in the guest house of Winterfell. Slowly, she pulled off the furs surrounding her and hung her feet over the side of the bed. The wolf howled again. The wolf had been howling for near four days, and it had become a constant annoyance to the entirety of her father's party, especially when the other wolves joined in. Myrcella had the feeling that Ned could stop the wolf he called 'Nym' from howling if he wished, he just chose not to. _I really hate him sometimes._ Myrcella thought. _He gets a thrill out of watching us all squirm, I just know it._

After concluding that thought, Myrcella hopped down from the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, causing Myrcella to shiver. _This place needs some of those hot-spring pipes that Arya told me about… or some thick carpeting. And it's still summer… how cold will it be here come winter?_ After calling for some handmaidens, she donned a gold and black dress, a newly made one that didn't tighten around her figure nearly as much as her older ones did. Putting on some simple shoes, she departed from her room in the Guest House and walked down the halls to the morning room. There, in the room, were Tommen and her mother, talking to each other.

"Mother… I want to break fast with Ned… I haven't seen him much at all since Brandon fell off the tower!"

"No. You will stay and break your fast with Jaime and me."

"Jaime and I..." Myrcella muttered under her breath. She blinked at her action. _Ned was right_ , she thought, _I really have spent too much time near Uncle Stannis._ She walked briskly up to the table and sat one of the stools as her mother waved over the servant walking towards them, as if telling him to walk faster. Her mother had been wroth that she had to sit on a common stool, but such was life in the North. As the servant walked over, her mother finally noticed her.

"Myrcella." she said very simply. "How kind of you to join us this morning." She showed no affection as usual, simple acknowledgement was the most Myrcella ever dared to hope for. Whenever her mother did deign to take an interest in her it felt stunted; Ned had once compared it to a child looking at their toys.

"I wished to break fast with my family," Myrcella said with a neutral tone, "after all, this is the last fast I will likely break with you for many moons." Any warmth that had been in the room prior was sucked out instantly.

"Myrcella." her mother said coldly. "You are not staying here with these barbarians. You are Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. You belong in King's Landing, where you can finish your lessons."

"Your Grace." Myrcella replied simply. _Not mother… never mother. She may have birthed me but she does not deserve to be called mother._ "I was making a statement, it was not in question. Father already told me I was welcome to stay here, as did Lord Stark." Myrcella saw her mother's eye twitch ever so slightly as she said 'father.'

"You are coming back home! I will not suffer one of my children to remain here!" her mother growled harshly. Myrcella, for her part, wasn't paying much attention as she was looking at the food the servant had just brought out. Some bread, jam, and cheeses, but little else. As she grabbed a small loaf, she looked at her mother.

"I didn't ask. I was simply informing Your Grace of the current state of affairs. Besides, you left Ned here for many moons, and didn't pay it a second thought." she said before biting into the loaf of bread. Her mother gave a sharp response, but Myrcella didn't feel like continuing the conversation. The rest of the meal was marked by silence in words, the only sounds heard were the grabbing of food and Tommen occasionally chewing on something happily, before Jaime tried to break the silence, only to fail when the argument threatened to start up again. After finishing her loaf with some cheese and jam, Myrcella hopped off of her stool and ran out of the Guest House. After barely avoiding running down her uncle Tyrion, she slowed down and began ambling across the courtyard.

She walked into the Great Keep, the near silence of her shoes in the dirt shifted to a soft _clap clap_ as she walked along the stone floors. Doorways into halls spread out on all sides, as the entrance to the Lord of Winterfell's audience hall stood at the far end, a bronze direwolf head attached to the top of the door, seeming to look over it, the wolf's paws wrapped around the top corners, as if daring any traitors or assassins to come forward. It sent shivers down Myrcella's spine.

To get away from its sight, she turned and started up one of the hallways on her left. She didn't walk it for long, however, as the hallways mostly gave way to a set of stairs leading upwards into the keep. Taking a simple breath, Myrcella began to climb the steps. Up and up she climbed, watching her shadow dance along the inner wall of the stairs, but she eventually reached the top hallway.

Myrcella continued her excursion by turning right and running down the hall. She stopped when she reached a landing with a doorway. Turning, she started down the hall. Small candles flickered light up and down the hallway as the Princess ambled along. Her shadow continued to dance along the wall as the light continued to flicker in from the torches, even as the sun continued to hide behind the clouds.

As she stepped out of the hall and into the large corridor, any positive feelings Myrcella had possessed were gone instantly as Myrcella locked eyes with her eldest brother. He was dressed in an elaborate tunic with intricate needlework showing his coat of arms, both in gold, of course. _How funny… the Blackfyres had a black dragon… you have a gold stag… but you're from the wrong house, Joffrey._

"Myrcella! What're you doing up here?" Joffrey said cheerfully, grinning as if mother had given him a new toy. _Oh great, he is in this kind of mood._

"I don't see why you care. Should you not be with Lady Stark giving your best wishes for Brandon? I don't recall you having done so yet." Myrcella replied. Her brother's face suddenly darkened. Myrcella's breathing caught briefly, before steadying herself. She wasn't afraid of him. There was nothing he could do to her.

"Careful now, _sister_ ," he spat, "girls oftimes disappear in a castle like this, only to be found again beaten and bloody." He suddenly smiled cruelly, like a butcher right before he cut his meat.

"True, I guess they'll have to find you before leaving for King's Landing then." she replied with a grin. Her brother's face flushed deeply as his cruel smile turned to frothing rage.

"You dare disrespect your future king?!" Joffrey all but screamed, drawing his ornate dagger of Valyrian Steel with a dragonbone hilt that he had taken from father's armoury. Myrcella felt her heartbeat speed up, but refused to show any fear.

"No, I am putting my brother's mockery back into his own face." she said, striding towards him. "Now move, I have things to do. Go find some other girl to torment." she finished as she shoved him out of the way and continued on. She quickly took off running down the halls. After about a minute she looked back, and realising he had not followed, she slowed down.

Myrcella continued walking along and wished for something to do. While she longed to take her weapons to the courtyard, even the practice ones were still in King's Landing and would have to be brought North, and she didn't have any stakes to practice it with, anyway. She'd probably have to spend the better part of four or five months to make enough stakes to practice regularly with for several weeks, then scout out a flat enough space to ensure the stakes allow for a successful rebound.

Yet she didn't even have a good enough knife to carve stakes with. She doubted Lady Catelyn would let her have one, if what Arya told her was any indication, and she doubted she'd be able to sweet-talk Robb into letting her have one; she didn't know him well enough for that, yet. As she continued in her thoughts, she descended down another set of stairs and continued down another hall. That was when she heard the whistling. _Oh Seven Hells, here we go again._ The sound was getting louder, so she stood in place and pretended not to notice. She knew Addam would play along if she did that. Indeed he did, as he walked passed her, turned around, and bowed with his hand over his heart lightly.

"Princess." he said respectfully. His face was clenched tightly, even as he tried to force a smile.

"You can drop the act, no one's around." she said lightly.

"Oh thank the Drowned God, I hate the taste of boot on my tongue. But, it is something we must swallow, lest we face the headsman's axe." he replied, showing thankfulness as his face relaxed with a slight frown.

"Aye, you learned that with the Ladies Stark." she admonished, crossing her arms. "You need to be careful with that, you've learned to be too informal with your betters."

"You used to admire that I didn't call you Princess every time I saw you." he muttered, trying not to meet her eyes, as if in acknowledgement that she was right. She knew he was trying to shift to conversation, she wasn't going to let him.

"I do like that, personally, but you cannot act like that with everyone, Addam. Especially once other lords begin visiting King's Landing to offer their daughter's or sister's hands to my brothers', or their own hands or that of their sons for mine own." Myrcella said, moving her hand over her chest. She got a chuckle in response.

"Joffrey is betrothed, and I don't doubt your mother has already unofficially made a betrothal for Tommen with a Lannister cousin. Ned would run away before he was betrothed to any girl. As for you… I hope you don't plan on giving into that, it would be so disappointing." he said, his hand over the bridge of his nose. He then dropped it, moving his hands behind his head.

"Father would never let his beloved daughter marry without her agreeing to the match. I will choose my husband on my own" she said confidently. "And my mother can shut her pretty mouth about it." she said, flinging her arm out for effect. _Or Uncle Jaime can shut it for her._ The thought alone made her cringe.

"Where is your dagger?" Addam asked suddenly. That snapped Myrcella out of her thoughts.

"What?" she replied, nonplussed, as she dropped her arms.

"Didn't you usually carry a dagger in King's Landing?" Addam asked. He shifted slightly as if trying to remember something important.

"Yeah, but I lost that in a bet on Joffrey's name day," she sighed, "I bet on Uncle Jaime, remember? When Ser Loras Tyrell unhorsed him?"

"How could I not? I owed half the men down at the wharf drinks that night for the same reason." he replied. Addam crossed his arms in thought, before seeming to come to a decision. He quickly untied his dagger from his belt and held it out to her. "Since you won't be coming back with us, you can't get another one. I figure this one'll tide you over. In return for it, just try to keep Theon out of too much trouble.'" She took the dagger gracefully, while nodding in response, not really registering in her mind. He smiled, and ruffled her hair a bit, before turning and strolling off. She unsheathed the dagger and looked at the nice steel it was made out of. Too bad it would probably go towards shaping wood.


	12. Jon II

It was the final day of the Royal Family's stay at Winterfell as Jon Snow ascended the steps of the Great Keep of Winterfell, trying to put out it of his mind that this may be the last time he did so. The cloudy day had turned to snow, yet men in the yard were running chaotically, attempting to gather the Royal Family's luggage to return to King's Landing. His sisters were to depart as well. After Bran fell, his Lord Father had chosen to bring Arya along as well, as Bran no longer could. Jon had never seen Prince Edric smile so much when he had heard about that. Those we the thoughts on his mind when he reached Bran's room.

Inside Bran's room, candles were burning as Lady Stark sat at his bedside, the Septon saying a prayer to his health. _I can understand allowing a small Sept to be built, even allowing a Septon to come from White Harbour, but allowing a Septon, any Septon, to see the son of the Lord of Winterfell and Lady Stark forbidding any Green Man to see him? The Gods will surely look down on us for this._ Yet all those thoughts faded away as Lady Stark set her eyes upon him.

She seemed to not recognize him at first, her blue eyes blinking in confusion, until they focused into a gaze. "Why have you come?" she droned, her voice lacking any emotion, even scorn.

Jon steeled himself for his own reply. "I've come to see Bran… to say goodbye."

Lady Stark lifted her head and her disheveled auburn hair fell over her shoulders. The Septon continued praying in High Valyrian, seemingly unaware of the world around him. "You've said it, and you can see him right there. Now go away."

He stepped forward into the room, letting Ghost run around him and into the room. He had a piece of himself that wished to flee at once, but Jon knew he may never see Bran again if he did so. "Please." he said.

"I told you to leave. We don't want you here." she said, ice seeming to flash through her blue eyes. As a child, that would have made him run away, or even cry. Now, it simply made him angry. He was the blood of House Stark, and through him flowed the blood of Winter, and that of Maekar, the Anvil of Redgrass Field. Were she still alive, his great-grandmother would have been at Bran's side, saying prayers, but Daella had passed only weeks following Rickon's birth.

Jon felt his will turn to steel, as he continued forward. "He's my brother." he said. His fear began to melt away. He was to swear himself to the Night's Watch, he would have far worse things to fear than Catelyn Stark.

"Shall I call the guards?"

"Go ahead. Call them." he said, his fear having fully vanished. "You can't stop me from seeing him." He crossed the room, keeping the bed between them as he crossed. As he did, Ghost began yapping at the Septon, likely smelling the oils on him.

"Lady Stark, I believe I said that the wolf must not interrupt the prayer, it is much less effective when it is interrupted." he said harshly, before continuing to recite his prayer. Jon barely noticed as he looked down at Bran's face. Lady Stark held one of his hands. It looked like a claw. The flesh seemed to stretch over him like the wood of a bow. This wasn't the climbing boy he remembered. Under the blankets, his legs bent outwards in a way that made Jon gag. His blue eyes stared upwards unceasingly, empty, looking but not. He remembered that Arya had to walk Prince Edric away from the room as he shuddered and choked back sobs.

As Bran's chest continued to rise and fall in shallow breaths, Jon finally spoke. "Bran, I'm sorry I didn't come before. I was afraid." As he continued, tears rolled down his cheeks and onto Bran's face, yet Jon couldn't bring himself to care. "Don't die Bran, we're all waiting for you. Me, Robb, Rickon, and the girls." Lady Stark had done nothing, and Jon took that as acceptance of the situation. Outside the window, the direwolf howled again. The direwolf Bran had not named. "I must go now. Uncle Benjen is waiting, we must leave now, before the snows come in force." He recalled Bran's excited face, how he was so happy to see Jon ride off to the wall. It was almost too much to bear, leaving him behind like this.

"I wanted him to stay." Lady Stark said dully. Jon watched her, warily. She wasn't even looking at him, but he knew she was talking to him. "I prayed in the Sept seven times, once for each face of god that Ned would change his mind and allow him to stay. Prince Edric prayed in the Sept as well, for Arya to come south. Sometimes prayers are answered." she said, gripping Bran's hand tighter.

Jon didn't know how to reply to that. He didn't believe in the Seven, yet he couldn't just say nothing. "You couldn't control that." He managed, after the awkward silence had fallen through.

Her eyes met his. Her gaze had no warmth. "It is not your absolution I seek, Snow."

"Of course you don't, such a sinful creature as a bastard cannot possibly grant absolution, only deeper sin." Jon turned to see the Septon, now having stopped his prayer.

"I don't mean to offend. I was offering my sympathy to the mother of my little brother." Jon said respectfully. He did not wish to challenge the Septon now, in front of his brother's sick bed. "Goodbye now." he said, after lightly kissing Bran on the forehead. He hurried from the room at a quick enough pace that had either of them spoken another word, he wouldn't have heard them. It was a long walk back to the courtyard. When he reached it, everything was chaos and confusion. More and more men were running in all directions, loading up luggage into wagons, saddling and harnessing horses, leading them out into the courtyard, and gathering everything for the long ride back to King's Landing. The snow had picked up in speed since he had gone inside, and everyone wanted to be gone from Winterfell before it stuck to the roads.

Robb was standing in the middle, shouting commands in an effort to keep order. He seemed bigger than he had before, as if Bran's fall had somehow made him gain strength. Grey Wind noticed him first, as Robb turned to look at him. "Uncle Benjen was looking for you! He wanted to be off an hour ago!"

"I know." Jon replied. "Soon." He looked at all the noise and chaos. "Leaving is more difficult than I'd have imagined."

"For me, too." Robb agreed, the snow touching his auburn hair and melting away. "Have you seen him?" Jon nodded. "He won't die. I know he won't."

Jon nodded again. "You Starks are hard to kill." he said, his tiredness showing through. Robb frowned, he knew something was wrong.

"My mother?" Robb asked.

"She… wasn't cruel." Jon said. Robb relaxed at that.

"Good." he smiled. "The next time I see you, you'll be in all black." Jon forced himself to smile back at his brother. "It always was my colour. How long do you think it will be?"

"Soon enough." Robb promised. He grabbed Jon and pulled him into a hug. "Farewell, Snow."

Jon returned the embrace. "You too, Stark. Take care of Bran… and the Princess."

"I-I will." Robb replied, pulling away. His face was slightly more pink than before. "Oh, Uncle Benjen said to send you to the stables if I saw you."

"I still have one final farewell to make." Jon said.

"Then I haven't seen you." Robb answered. Jon left him there, as he returned to giving orders to the men. It was a short walk to the armoury from there. He found the second Prince there, sitting on the bench with one leg up on it, his chin resting on his knee. The moment he noticed Jon, he hopped off the chair with their package.

"He finished it not a few moments ago." the Prince said, trying to find the right way to carry the package, before slipping up and dropping it. After picking it up, he handed it to Jon, clearly embarrassed. The two of them left the armoury and crossed the covered bridge into the keep.

Arya was in her room, packing a polished chest of Forrester Ironwood that was even bigger than her. Nymeria appeared to be helping. She would simply point at something and Nymeria would run and grab it, before bringing it back. As she finished packing something, however, Arya stopped, and turned around to face them, jumping as she did so. She jumped into Jon's arms with a hug. "I thought you had gone already. The Septa wouldn't let me say goodbye!"

"Arya..." Edric said carefully. "I thought I helped you finish packing all this already, why is it all out again?" she untangled herself from Jon. "The Septa." she said simply. "She said that it wasn't packed right. That a Southron lady doesn't throw her clothes inside her chest like old rags."

"My sister does, she only folds the nice dresses." Edric muttered.

"Exactly! But who cares, they'll be all messed up anyway by the time we make it to King's Landing!" she replied.

"The Septa evidently does." Jon said. "I don't think she'd enjoy Nymeria helping either."

"She's not gonna stop Nym from helping." Edric said, holding out his hand as Nymeria licked it. "Besides, he has a present for you, one that has to be packed the most carefully." Her eyes lit up.

"You do, Jon?" she asked. He nodded in reply.

"Close the door." Seemingly wary, but excited at the same time, Arya quickly checked the hall.

"Nym, go guard the door." Edric said softly. The direwolf perked up, and walked over to Arya, who pointed her where to guard. She closed the door behind the wolf. While she did that, Jon unwrapped the rags that the Prince had wrapped the package in. He held it out to her. Arya's eyes widened as she laid her eyes on it. Grey-blue eyes matching their father's.

"A sword." she said quietly. The scabbard was black leather, not ordinate in any way, Edric reached out and drew the sword carefully, holding it with the finger-rings.

"This isn't a toy." Jon said. "Careful not to cut yourself with it, the edges are so sharp you could shave."

"Girls don't… usually… shave." Arya said, casting a furtive glance in Prince Edric's direction.

Not wanting to tread on that soil, he tried to alleviate some tension. "Well, maybe they should. Have you seen the Septa's legs?" They all shared a giggle at that.

"The sword is really skinny. And why are there rings above the pommel?" she asked.

"The sword is skinny because you are, too." Edric replied. "The finger rings are there to hold you fingers to hold it easier." He backed up and demonstrated, swinging the sword finely.

"Bravos use them across the Free Cities." Jon added. "It won't behead a man, but it can leave him bleeding from many holes if you are quick enough."

"I can be fast." she said with a smile.

"You'll have to work at it every day until your arm will get used to it." Edric said, handing the sword to her. She carefully took the hilt and gave it a practice swing.

"Do you like the balance?" Jon asked.

"I think so." Arya replied, giving the sword a practice swing

"First lesson." Jon said with a smile. "Stick 'em with the pointy end." She smacked him on the arm with the flat of her blade. Despite the fact that it hurt, he couldn't stop smiling.

"I know which end to use." she grimaced. "Septa Mordane will take it away from me."

"Not if she wants to remain a Septa." Edric said. "Or if you just hide it." he quickly added after Arya glared at him. "I can practice it with you once we get to King's Landing. I'll commission a sword to spar with you."

"Of course, whatever you do..." Jon said, before all three of them said in unison, "… don't… tell… Sansa!"

Jon ruffled her hair roughly. "I'll miss you, little sister. Take care of her, Your Grace" Edric blushed heavily.

"Don't say weird things like that." he said, looking away. Jon laughed lightly.

"I have to go, I'll spend my first year cleaning the chamber pots at Castle Black if I make Uncle Benjen wait any longer." Jon said. Arya began to run at him for a last hug, but suddenly stopped, looked at her hand, then placed her sword down, before running up to him and placing kisses all over his face. Prince Edric said his temporary goodbyes then before leaving the room then. Jon followed him soon after, the warmth of her laughter at their choosing of the swords name keeping the cold away for the ride north.


End file.
